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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360989">Harry Potter and the Actually Decent Childhood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAZzle_10/pseuds/DAZzle_10'>DAZzle_10</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The 'Restoration' Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Gen, Goblins, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Pagan Festivals, Period-Typical Homophobia, Politics, Ron Weasley Bashing, Time Travel, Traditions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:02:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>63,912</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAZzle_10/pseuds/DAZzle_10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Petunia and Vernon Dursley found their nephew suffering from hypothermia on their doorstep, they have been raising young Harry Potter as their own to spite the idiots who left a baby out overnight in late autumn. As such, Harry Potter has grown up loved and supported, changing not only his own life, but the lives of those around him. None of Harry's magical accidents or Petunia and Vernon's previous experience in the magical world could have prepared them for the arrival of a relative that Harry never knew he had - or the discovery that the wizard who left Harry to die has been quietly stealing Harry's inheritance behind the scenes and squandering Harry's chances at a good life.</p><p>Fortunately for Harry, his family is more than happy to support him, and his newly-arrived second uncle is hell-bent on correcting everything that one Mr Albus Dumbledore has done to screw Harry over.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley &amp; Harry Potter, Godric Gryffindor/Salazar Slytherin, Harry Potter &amp; Salazar Slytherin, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom &amp; Harry Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley &amp; Harry Potter, Salazar Slytherin &amp; Severus Snape, Vernon Dursley &amp; Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The 'Restoration' Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Avidreaders HP completed faves, Political HP Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So... I mean, it's not exactly my first HP piece, but it kind of feels like it - my first major one, at any rate. Just a couple of things to say, really: the majority of this will be from Harry's perspective, even though the first chapter is not; the Dursleys are nicer in this than in canon, from the off, but given the time period, they still have certain prejudices which will become more prevalent as time goes on; Dumbledore, by contrast, is decidedly not nice and although the perspective from which he is introduced is a biased one, he is not intended to be a particularly nuanced character with good but misguided intentions; yes, he has his reasons for acting the way he does, and those will eventually be explored, but I'm not going to be subtle about him being, essentially, one of the 'bad guys'. Just a heads-up, is all.</p>
<p>Oh, and the title was a suggestion by the lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endriya/pseuds/Endriya">Endriya</a>, though I have been warned to make it clear that it was suggested as a joke, and I simply chose to run with it...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night is cold. Beneath the sparkling blanket of stars which drapes itself across the sky, the air is frigid, and though the wind is nigh on still, the chill seeps into the bones of the many souls on the streets. For most, it is ignored in favour of celebration, a mere afterthought in comparison to their joy and merrymaking. For one, however, the cold is a deadly weapon, stealing all too quickly through tiny limbs and slowing blood to a sluggish trickle.</p>
<p>It is a bad night to leave little Harry James Potter, only one year of age, out on the streets.</p>
<p>By the time Petunia Dursley opens the door, the boy is sickly, cold to the touch and white as the blankets he’s been swaddled in. Confused and suspicious, she peers down at the small infant for a moment, wondering with a faint touch of horror if the poor child might be dead, but then she sees the faint rise of a ribcage and springs into action, snatching the baby up and reaching for the phone. Only the emergency services, she thinks, can save this child.</p>
<p>As she fills in the operator on the situation – “I – I don’t know; he was just left here, and he’s so <em>cold</em>…” – she goes to wake her husband, shaking him insistently until he blinks blearily up at her then gesturing frantically to the infant in her arms and the phone. After listening to the phone call for a matter of minutes, Vernon Dursley’s bushy eyebrows rise in incredulous horror, then he’s swinging his feet around onto the floor and reaching for his dressing gown, hurrying downstairs to see if there’s any explanation for the child’s mysterious appearance.</p>
<p>All that’s left is a single side of oddly thick parchment, which he gapes at in silence even before bothering to read it. The act of reading itself certainly doesn’t give him a higher opinion on the situation; those freaks left <em>his nephew</em> on a doorstep in late October, mere hours after the deaths of his parents, for God’s sake! The poor child’s nearly dead – which this Albus Dumbledore fellow surely couldn’t have intended, given that the letter begs them to raise the boy.</p>
<p>Shaking his head, he takes the letter but remains in the doorway to wave down the approaching ambulance, sticking his head back into the house to call for his wife then stepping out of the way of the paramedics.</p>
<p>“We’ll follow behind,” he tells the paramedics firmly while little Harry is tended to, handing the note to Petunia to read. “I found a letter which was left with him – apparently he’s our nephew.”</p>
<p>“Lily’s <em>dead</em>?” Petunia whispers, horror and grief in her tone, then her face twists with anger. “Lily’s dead, and they left <em>her son</em> to die of cold on a doorstep!”</p>
<p>The anger crumbles into grief once more as she collapses into Vernon’s chest to sob; Vernon lifts one arm to rub up and down her back in gentle comfort, the other lifting to wave in confirmation that they’ll follow to the hospital in a few minutes.</p>
<p>“I never got to – to tell her I – I –” Petunia stutters out, but apparently can’t get any further before the sobs take over once more.</p>
<p>“She knew,” Vernon assures her softly. “She knew, Pet. And she loved you too.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t attempt to tell her that it’s alright; her sister and brother-in-law have died, and she’s been given the news in the form of a callous, pretentious letter.</p>
<p>“We’ll just have to raise little Harry as best we can,” he murmurs after a good five minutes of tears. “Come on, we’ll wake Dudley then head to the hospital – once that’s sorted, I’ll make sure you have your time to mourn, alright? But for now, we have to keep moving.”</p>
<p>Shakily, she peels herself away from him, lifting trembling fingers to wipe daintily beneath her eyes, then sucks in a quivering breath and turns for the stairs.</p>
<p>“I – I’ll get Dud,” she tells him, then sniffs. “You g – get dressed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As luck would have it, Harry is fine; he will, they’re told, have a weaker immune system for some time, but there’s no permanent damage been done. On hearing the news, Petunia slumps in relief, Vernon holding her steady by the arm around her shoulder. They can take their nephew home tomorrow, but if there do look to be any other problems after that point, then they should call in at once and explain the situation.</p>
<p>While Harry stays in hospital, Vernon arranges the spare bedroom and shops for the necessary extra supplies they’ll need, keeping his son entertained while his wife mourns the loss of her last remaining family. It’s in doing so that he starts to realise how terribly unfit he is; walking up and down the stairs just once leaves him out of breath, never mind multiple times, and with a baby in tow at that.</p>
<p>He will, he decides, have to go on a diet – and looking at Dudley, he’ll have to be careful about what his son eats, too. Vernon has never had a brilliant relationship with food, and he doesn’t want to pass that on to Dudley if he can help it, so it’s probably time he started looking into healthy eating patterns – see if he can get Petunia to eat a little more while he’s at it, even.</p>
<p>Over the next eight years, Vernon gradually gets himself down to a manageable size, discovering that he quite enjoys his weekly gym trips and the rugby he’s recently started playing for the first time since his school years – enough that, when Harry and Dudley are old enough, he brings them along and lets them endear themselves with his teammates and eventually join the minis. Petunia appreciates the small break it gives her at the weekends and one other evening a week to relax and eventually start up a cleaning column in the local newspaper, more for her own enjoyment than from any commercial benefit; when it starts to gain popularity, she’s shocked but pleased, and certainly honoured to accept a position with a much larger paper, writing for them every week.</p>
<p>Harry and Dudley grow up happy and healthy, as thick as thieves and more. The pranks that they play together are never malicious, and on the odd occasion someone does get upset, Petunia and Vernon teach them to apologise at once and make sure that their ‘victim’ is alright. Every time, such behaviour earns them a new friend in the form of the kid whom they’ve just picked off the ground or helped to clean up.</p>
<p>So really, life is going well for their small family of four. Harry’s accidental magic is treated with fond eye-rolls and just the slightest hint of caution – after some early freak-outs before they realised what was going on – and Dudley <em>loves</em> it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s two days after Dudley’s ninth birthday that their world is flipped on its head once more, in the form of a brilliant flash of light in their backyard, flaring out to fill the enclosed space before shrinking back in, the brightness concentrating at a single point of such intensity that they all have to look away, Petunia pausing in her writing and Vernon drawing Dudley and Harry towards him, rugby ball forgotten for the time being, to shield them. When the light fades, Vernon remains in place, holding the two boys away from whatever the source might be in case it remains dangerous.</p>
<p>“Did either of you do this?” he asks, and both shake their heads, eyes wide with shock. “Alright, I –”</p>
<p>“Vernon!” Petunia calls, rising from her lawn chair as Vernon twists towards her and pointing with one trembling finger towards the origin of the light.</p>
<p>There, limp and unmoving on the grass, lies an unfamiliar man.</p>
<p>“Pet, take the boys inside,” Vernon tells her without hesitation, because priority number one is that they remain safe themselves, and who knows who – or what – this man is. “I’ll see what’s going on.”</p>
<p>Gently, he nudges Harry and Dudley in her direction and watches them closely as they run to her, waiting until all three are safely inside before approaching the newcomer, who now appears to be shifting weakly as his eyelids flutter. At least he doesn’t look like much of a threat.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” Vernon demands, unable to feel bad about the rude tone he takes, when this man has appeared in his back garden where his boys were playing and his wife writing.</p>
<p>The man groans softly, blinking and shaking his head as if to clear it, before dazed eyes fix on Vernon’s; Vernon finds himself struck by the thought that this man’s eyes are exactly the same shade as Harry’s.</p>
<p>“Salazar,” comes the hoarse croak in reply, followed by a cracked laugh which evolves swiftly into a seemingly painful coughing fit which leaves this ‘Salazar’ clutching at his ribs and groaning. “Salazar Potter, Salazar Slytherin, take your pick – it doesn’t matter. It won’t last.”</p>
<p>Then, to Vernon’s confusion and faint discomfort, the strange man’s chest stutters with a dry sob, though Salazar bottles it in before it can become anything more. More pressing, though, is that Vernon’s almost certain that this man is a wizard, and he said ‘Potter’, which <em>could</em> be a common name in the magical community, but Vernon suspects otherwise.</p>
<p>“Potter?” he demands, Salazar blinking up at him before nodding shakily. “As in… James Potter?”</p>
<p>“James?” Salazar repeats at once, attempting to push up onto shaking arms before the limbs give way to leave him slumped on the grass once more. “You know James? Where is he? I need to – I need –”</p>
<p>Taken aback, Vernon can only blink for several seconds, struggling to find anything to say. Either this man is too dazed to remember – concussion is probable, to be fair – or he simply doesn’t know that James Potter is dead. Vernon’s not sure which will be a harder situation to deal with.</p>
<p>“How do you know James?” he settles for asking, then meets the eyes which narrow at him.</p>
<p>“I’m his brother,” Salazar tells him warily. “I had an… accident – I haven’t seen him in many years.”</p>
<p>In the back of Vernon’s mind, a bell rings faintly. He remembers Petunia mentioning a brother, once – a twin who had disappeared in a freak magical accident at the age of fifteen, whom no one spoke of and whom the Potters had never given up on looking for.</p>
<p>“Why are you here <em>now</em>, then?” Vernon presses, suspicion hardening his tone.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Salazar tells him with a helpless shrug. “I don’t – I ended up… elsewhere, and I thought I was stuck there. I made a new life there, and then – then it was <em>torn </em>from me just like – just like –”</p>
<p>Another ‘freak magical accident’? Is that what this stranger is implying? Vernon doesn’t know whether such a thing is plausible or not, but he accepts it with a nod.</p>
<p>“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asks pointedly.</p>
<p>Salazar sighs, head dropping back against the soft lawn beneath himself.</p>
<p>“Gringotts?” he offers. “We can go there and ask the goblins.”</p>
<p>Before Vernon even attempts to work out if this ‘Gringotts’ is a real place, never mind if goblins exist and can confirm this man’s identity, he decides that he should <em>really</em> talk to Petunia and see what she knows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With Petunia having declared Salazar’s similarity to the pictures Lily once showed her, they head for Gringotts – Harry and Dudley in tow, because they’ll have to get a glimpse of the magical world at some point, and why not now? Vernon is all about giving both of his boys some real-world experience from a young age, so that they’ll be able to stand on their own two feet when they need it. A trip to a magical bank sounds very much like something they could benefit from.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, knowing that the bank – alongside the street it can be found on – is magical-community only does not prepare him for the sights, sounds and smells that he’s met with on stepping through a moving brick wall at the back of a <em>pub</em> of all places. Colours dance around him, mixing with bright flashes of light and the shrieking of children, owls and God knows what else, the air thick with the aroma of fresh bread, chocolate, mint, <em>blood</em> – Jesus Christ, is that a <em>vampire</em>? – and so much more that Vernon doesn’t think he wants to even attempt to identify. Salazar leads them through the commotion without batting an eyelid, Vernon holding his composure together for the sake of Harry and Dudley, the former clinging to his hand and the latter to Petunia’s, both gaping around at the spectacle in much the same way as Vernon desperately wants to.</p>
<p>“Here,” Salazar announces finally, twisting briefly as if to check that he hasn’t lost one of them in the bustle then looking back up at the looming marble structure before them. “Merlin, it’s been a while…”</p>
<p>Only briefly does Vernon catch a glimpse of some sort of inscription on the door before Salazar ushers them inside and makes for the nearest goblin – <em>goblin</em>, Vernon’s mind shrieks frantically – to stop in front of its towering desk and meet its sneering gaze. All Vernon can do is try not to stare.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Master Goblin,” Salazar greets, inclining his head in a shallow bow, and Vernon thinks he sees the goblin’s expression soften just a fraction. “I would like to access my vault, and prove my identity to my companions as well.”</p>
<p>The goblin’s chin lifts in the slightest of acknowledgements.</p>
<p>“Name?” it asks flatly.</p>
<p>“Potter,” Salazar replies, apparently unfazed by its unfriendliness, which in turn falters a little at the name, the goblin apparently surprised. “Salazar Potter.”</p>
<p>The goblin pauses in its other activities – sorting gemstones – for the first time, then, and peers down at Salazar in silence for a long moment.</p>
<p>“Gornuk!” it calls, then sits back as another goblin arrives, gesturing to its companion. “Gornuk will attend to your business. Gornuk, this is Salazar Potter, who wishes to prove his identity and visit his vaults, and his companions.”</p>
<p>Vernon is surprised to find ‘Gornuk’ much friendlier than the last goblin, ushering them away to a much smaller room with a small incline of the head and staying only for a moment to converse with the original goblin before following them in. Really, he should have known better than to assume that just because the first goblin he met was curt then the rest would be too.</p>
<p>“Mr Potter, it is good to see you alive and well after so many years,” Gornuk begins as soon as the door is closed, waving them all to seats (Vernon doesn’t know whether or not to be surprised that the seats are of exactly the right number, and a perfect size for each of them). “Before we go ahead with your business, I feel it prudent to ask you a few questions to establish the situation and avoid misunderstandings. How aware have you been of everything that has happened since your disappearance?”</p>
<p>At that, Salazar looks away, deflating outright for the first time since it was agreed that they would go to Gringotts in the first place.</p>
<p>“I have no idea of anything that has happened,” he admits slowly. “I have been… Well, it’d be nice to find out what year it is, to start.”</p>
<p>To Vernon’s surprise – he’s getting a little tired of constantly being caught off-guard – Gornuk stiffens.</p>
<p>“Is this a time-travel incident?” the goblin asks carefully, eyes closing for a second when Salazar nods.</p>
<p><em>Time travel</em>? Vernon hadn’t even thought that possible – though he’s starting to think that maybe he should take an approach of assuming everything possible until proven otherwise.</p>
<p>“Time travel?” Harry whispers at his side, eyes wide, and Vernon shushes him fondly, trying not to laugh at the boy’s pout.</p>
<p>“It has been…” Salazar appears to count it through, “Around fourteen years, I would guess. It was… hard to keep track.”</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Gornuk nods. “We can verify that for you as well. Fourteen years have certainly passed in our time – to the day, I would add. And you do not know anything that has happened in that time?”</p>
<p>Blankly, Salazar shakes his head.</p>
<p>“We don’t appear to be at war anymore?” he offers hesitantly.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Gornuk repeats, then frowns. “The sooner you know, the better, I suppose. Your parents are, unfortunately, dead, as is your brother and his wife. Killed by You-Know-Who on the same day that he tried and failed to kill your nephew, Harry.”</p>
<p>It’s… a blunt way of putting it, and certainly not the way Vernon would have done it; he would have found some chocolate, built a rapport, and broken it slowly and gently, feeding it in chunks that the receiver could handle. This is a quicker way of doing it, though, and perhaps that is, in some respects, more merciful. Carefully, he reaches out to squeeze Petunia’s hand when he hears her sniff, to be rewarded with a shakily grateful smile.</p>
<p> “<em>What</em>?” Salazar whispers, face white as a sheet, and for a moment, he seems about to crumble under the weight of it all; Vernon can only imagine what a blow this must be – assuming, of course, that he is who he says he is.</p>
<p>The next second, however, any hint of emotion is gone, locked away from sight and seemingly existence as blankness falls over the man’s face.</p>
<p>“Probably for the best,” he announces to the room at large, his voice dropping in volume a moment later. “At least I won’t lose them again.”</p>
<p>Gornuk watches him in silence, apparently as aware of the sombre atmosphere as the rest of them, then nods in acceptance.</p>
<p>“Have there only been the two time-travel occurrences?” the goblin asks, making a note on parchment with a quill – a <em>quill</em> – when Salazar nods. “Fourteen years apart. Hmm…”</p>
<p>Vernon shares a weighted look with Petunia, glad that Harry and Dudley seem aware that now is not the time to get restless or complain of boredom.</p>
<p>“I built a new life,” Salazar mutters, staring fixedly at the desk which separates humans from goblin. “I had friends, family, a reputation… And then it was torn away from me. Again. I suppose I’ll end up there again in another fourteen years and find Godric killed by Vikings.”</p>
<p>The words are bitter, and they mean little to Vernon, but Gornuk’s eyebrows rise with interest.</p>
<p>“Godric killed by Vikings?” the goblin repeats, spindly fingers caressing its chin as it eyes Salazar in silence. “Around when did you spend your last fourteen years, Mr Potter?”</p>
<p>Salazar takes in a deep breath, something about the glint in Gornuk’s eyes and the tension in Salazar’s shoulders telling Vernon that, whatever is about to come out, it will have serious significance.</p>
<p>“Around the 10<sup>th</sup> Century,” Salazar admits. “I… was given a different surname, by the friends I met. We decided to build a school together.”</p>
<p>“And that surname was…?” Gornuk presses, and Vernon can also imagine that, if it had less decorum, it would be salivating at whatever prospect it can see.</p>
<p>“Slytherin,” Salazar sighs, folding his arms. “Salazar Slytherin.”</p>
<p>“Lord Slytherin,” Gornuk all but purrs. “It is an <em>honour</em>.”</p>
<p>For the next hour or so, Vernon sits and tries to keep Harry entertained as quietly as possible while keeping an eye on proceedings between Salazar – who has indeed confirmed his identity, and in doing so, his apparent status as ‘Lord Potter’ – and Gornuk – who Salazar explained was female while the goblin was out of the room, not that Vernon has any idea how Salazar knows that. At any rate, the two have settled into quite a comfortable, efficient conversation on accounts and affairs, Vernon unable to keep track of much given both the clear differences in the magical system and his own preoccupation with a slightly grouchy Harry. Apparently, it is a very big deal that Salazar has no heirs and will never be able to have them; Vernon isn’t sure whether he’s surprised or not that the man survived being a homosexual <em>with a male partner</em> in the 10<sup>th</sup> Century, but he decides not to question it too closely, more interested in Salazar’s outrage that the man who killed James and Lily has been claiming to be the ‘Heir of Slytherin’, whatever that means. (And admittedly, he’s rather uncomfortable with the idea that his nephew might be related to a homosexual, but he can work out what to do about that at another time.)</p>
<p>Then, apparently, there’s the disrepair that the Slytherin estate has fallen into, Salazar despairing that all of his hard work has been mistreated to such an extent. After that, there’s the ownership of Hogwarts, which Vernon very easily recognises as the name of the magical school which James and Lily both attended, and which Harry will likely attend in future, and the ‘dissatisfying’ alterations which the current headmaster has supposedly made. The political side of it all – the ‘Wizengamot’, the seats, the ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’ and ‘Grey’ – make no sense at all, and Vernon does not even attempt to follow it. Politics have never been his strong point, and certainly, magical politics make no more sense than the normal kind.</p>
<p>Finally, when Harry is grumbling and fiddling with the zip on his hoodie as Dudley pokes the leg of his chair moodily with one toe, they move onto the Potter estate. Honestly, Vernon’s not sure why they’re even still here, but it soon becomes apparent that their presence is indeed necessary for this part of the conversation.</p>
<p>“Vernon and Petunia Dursley currently have guardianship of your nephew,” Gornuk tells Salazar, peering down at her documents. “Petunia Dursley is the sister of Lily Potter, who was in turn your sister-in-law.”</p>
<p>“That’s us,” Petunia offers quietly, and Gornuk looks up, Salazar twisting to blink at them in apparent surprise. “I’m Petunia. This is Vernon, our son Dudley… and our nephew, Harry.”</p>
<p>Harry jumps at his name, glancing around at them all with clear confusion, and Vernon pats his shoulder lightly in reassurance, watching emotions flit over Salazar’s face too quickly to be registered.</p>
<p>“He has the eyes,” comes the quiet observation finally. “James must have been so p – annoyed that he got the Potter eyes.”</p>
<p>So the green is a Potter trait? Vernon had always assumed that it came from Lily – though he won’t deny that Lily’s eyes were never <em>quite</em> so bright as Harry’s.</p>
<p>For several long seconds, Salazar remains transfixed, then with a deep breath, he returns his gaze to Gornuk.</p>
<p>“And who had control of his inheritance? The estate? His seats? Those would have passed to him when he came of age, would they not?”</p>
<p>Gornuk sifts through documents until she finds the ones she apparently wants, frowning visibly at whatever she sees.</p>
<p>“Albus Dumbledore appears to have taken control of everything for himself,” she announces, and then her frown deepens. “He has spent more than he should have been permitted. <em>Far</em> more. And these suggest that he has active use of the seats, but that should not…”</p>
<p>“I want that sorted,” Salazar announces, Gornuk nodding immediately in agreement. “<em>Albus Dumbledore</em> should not have a single <em>hair</em> in my nephew’s inheritance, never mind the family estate or seats. Anything he has taken, I want returned. I want my brother’s will reviewed, and –”</p>
<p>“It was never opened,” Gornuk observes, almost more to herself than Salazar, who stops talking instantly with a sharp inhale. “It was sealed. Both the previous Lord and Lady Potter’s wills were sealed.”</p>
<p>By the flaring of Salazar’s nostrils, Vernon can only assume that such news is bad. It’s good, he thinks, that Salazar seems so intent on protecting Harry already, though he vows internally to keep an eye out and ensure that the man bears no ill will towards their nephew. If all is well, then it will be good for Harry to grow up with one foot in the magical world already, prepared for what he will be diving into.</p>
<p>“Who by?” Salazar demands. “If it was –”</p>
<p>“Albus Dumbledore,” Gornuk grits out, seemingly as furious as Salazar himself. “We will have this rectified, Lord Slytherin. You understand that the title of Lord Potter will pass to your nephew when he comes of age.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes,” Salazar waves it off, clearly agitated. “That’s fine. That’s good. It should be his. It would never have been mine if James –”</p>
<p>He stops, inhales sharply, and continues.</p>
<p>“I’ll simply have to do what I can to repair whatever damage cannot be reversed until that time – and I don’t suppose <em>anyone</em> has offered him education on his role, his future…? I’m seeing too many blank faces in this room to believe that he has been given the support he needs, never mind the family.”</p>
<p>Gornuk peers down at her documents.</p>
<p>“According to these,” she sighs, “Those duties would have fallen to Albus Dumbledore.”</p>
<p>“Of <em>fuh… udging</em> course,” Salazar grits out, a quick glance in the direction of Harry and Dudley preceding his hasty switch away from outright cursing. “Right. Fine. I’ll do that. Perhaps it would be best to leave the rest until another day, when the problems already identified have been rectified.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Gornuk agrees, standing. “If you would prefer, I can have the current account manager removed under investigation and assign someone else?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Salazar confirms, nodding as he, too, rises, and Vernon takes that as a sign to finally push up and out of his chair to stretch his legs with a quiet groan of relief. “I’d like to request that you take over for the time being, if that’s possible.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Gornuk assures, inclining her head. “We will arrange a secondary appointment for next week, Lord Slytherin, though of course we will make contact sooner if necessary.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>Somewhat confused about what has happened but very much aware that he should be angry, Vernon offers a polite smile and nod to Gornuk and follows Salazar from the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Salazar waits until they arrive back at the home of Vernon and Petunia to sit down with his… Well, he’s not entirely sure what the apt term would be, but his nephew’s aunt and uncle, at any rate. Internally, he can only be grateful that, despite their appalling lack of support from the magical community, they have managed to raise Harry as a healthy, happy boy with good levels of accidental magic and a sensible head on him – or so it appears, after spending but a matter of hours with them.</p>
<p>Further down, deep inside his heart, something aches for his losses, which seem to be stacking up faster than he wants to count – Helga, Rowena, Helena, <em>Godric</em>, Mum, Dad, <em>James</em> and the sister-in-law he never knew – but he will deal with that later, once he has everything else sorted. Really, he has no idea how long he’ll be here, no way of knowing when next he’ll be whisked away – the image of Godric’s face, contorted with grief and misery as they both fought against the magic which tore them apart, will sear Salazar’s mind for years to come – but all he can is make the most of what time he does have, and do his best by the people he’ll leave behind, namely, his young nephew, whom he has yet to properly introduce himself to.</p>
<p>“We have much to discuss,” he tells Vernon and Petunia when they’re all sat, mugs of tea clasped in white-knuckled hands; the couple facing him seem to know that something is very, horribly wrong.</p>
<p>“Could you start from the beginning?” Petunia – his sister-in-law’s sister, or his brother’s sister-in-law – asks softly. “From what happened to you originally? I don’t remember Lily ever writing about you, and she wrote about everyone she met at Hogwarts – even the ones she didn’t like.”</p>
<p>Salazar has to snort wryly at that, even as he realises that this ‘Lily’ could well be the same as the poor girl James had been moping after since the age of eleven. Perhaps, it would be best to explain it all, as requested.</p>
<p>“I was home-schooled,” he starts slowly. “I have a… condition, where my magic is… Well, it’s harder to control. No one could explain it, no one could treat it, and although Hogwarts has accepted students like me in the past and helped a great deal, the headmaster of the time, Albus Dumbledore, decided to refuse me entry. My parents did not want to argue, because he had – and apparently still has – a lot of power in this country. Never mind that he was happy to admit a werewolf…”</p>
<p>Shaking his head, he moves on. Remus Lupin was very much a decent boy, he remembers, and a good friend of James’. He doesn’t begrudge the other anything, and certainly, he hopes that Remus is alright, wherever he has ended up.</p>
<p>“At any rate, I had a slightly unusual education as a result, because I was not permitted a wand – Dumbledore, again – so could not learn magic in the usual way. I learnt politics, economics, and the like, and whatever magic my parents could teach me without a wand, to the point of teaching me the same magic but without a wand to use as a conduit. It was… harder, but it helped me strengthen my magical ability a lot. Unfortunately…”</p>
<p>Looking away from their watchful eyes, he coughs to clear his throat as his voice scratches roughly.</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, strength was the last thing I needed – I believe the problem was that my magic was <em>too </em>strong to be easily controlled. I needed the control that learning to channel through a wand would teach me, and instead, my parents were forced to do whatever else they could for me, which just happened to worsen my condition – not that they knew. The time-travel was… It was one of those accidents, when I simply could not control what I was doing. Where – or when, I should say – I ended up, I met people who helped me to understand my condition and how to cope with it. I created a wand, and that seemed to help. The accidents went away, and I made a life for myself. We built a school, and I had my friends and family… and then the accidents started again. We tried to work out what was wrong, and we were…”</p>
<p>He clenches a hand tightly into a fist, digging the nails into his palm and biting down briefly on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to stop the tears that threaten to fall. Even having glossed over as much of his life as he can, to avoid the pain of thinking about everything that he has only just lost, it all seems overwhelming, his heart aching with Godric’s absence.</p>
<p>“We were close,” he croaks out. “Very close. But too late.”</p>
<p>At least, he thinks they were close; they just weren’t certain if they were right, and Rowena had some last tests to do before they could put everything that they were fairly certain of into practice. Perhaps the tests would have failed, perhaps they were on completely the wrong track, but Salazar is utterly convinced that they were right. All of his notes on the subject are gone, though – lost alongside his family and his home.</p>
<p>“I woke up,” he continues, realising that he doesn’t have the air to complete the sentence and quickly drawing in a breath, “In your garden. This morning. To find that my first family – those I knew, at any rate – are all dead, killed by a man whom we were still fighting when the first accident occurred. The man who denied me a chance to control my magic has seized my family’s estate and sought to control my nephew’s life in the most horrific of manners, I can only assume, and I do not know how long I will be here – how much time I have – but I will do what I can to help Harry. Which starts, really, with telling you everything I know about the situation.”</p>
<p>Taking a moment to compose himself now that there is nothing more to recount to them, he licks his lips and readies himself to explain what Albus Dumbledore has done. Then, he will need to know everything that they can tell him.</p>
<p>“Before I returned,” he starts carefully, well aware that he is the full focus of their rapt attention, “The situation was a little different, so we’ll go into that first. Harry was the Heir of House Potter, which meant that, when he came of age, he would take on the title of Lord Potter. He would have ownership of our family’s estate, and would carry the full political power of the Potter Family. He has seats in the Wizengamot, which is the… council of Magical Britain, you might say. The Wizengamot is responsible for governing our community – for creating laws, and for maintaining them. The parliamentary and justice systems, all rolled into one. Harry will have considerable influence once he is old enough to take on the seats for himself.”</p>
<p>He pauses, just for a moment, to ensure that they are following him, and is satisfied with the nod he gets from Petunia; as long as one of them understands, then that will do them for now.</p>
<p>“When there is no one around to take on such duties for a House – to hold the mantle of Lord, or in a family which is not noble, that of Head – then normally, the estate is maintained passively by Gringotts, with no active development or political movements taking place until the Heir comes of age. If the entire family dies out… There are normally wills which will direct what happens, or Gringotts and the Ministry will do as they see fit. Wills can also be used if there is an underage Heir, and likely, James and…” he struggles briefly for his sister-in-law’s name, “Lily will have stipulated their wishes accordingly. However, their wills were sealed and never read, and instead Albus Dumbledore took responsibility for Harry and for control of the House without anyone’s permission. It is not really a legal move, but I imagine no one dared to challenge him, if they even thought to do so. However, it can be easily challenged by Gringotts now that their attention has been called to it, and certainly by me.”</p>
<p>Again, he pauses, letting the information sink in, and continues only with another nod from Petunia.</p>
<p>“Dumbledore has a lot of power, as what we call a Light Lord. There are three – Well, there <em>were</em> originally two… <em>factions</em>, you might call them, of magic. The Light, and the Dark. The Light were about progression and development, the Dark about conservation and protection. The Grey then arose as a compromise of sorts, and thus we now have the three. The Light and Dark traditionally have a leader, called a Dark Lord or Light Lord – not that they are always men these days, but rather, when a motion was called to allow flexibility in the naming of the position to recognise the women who had started to hold the roles as well, it was questioned that those without a male or female identity would then struggle, and as such it was decreed that the titles would remain ‘Lord’ regardless of gender. But I digress…”</p>
<p>Quickly, he regathers himself.</p>
<p>“The Dark and Light <em>always</em> have a Lord, whereas with the Grey, it is an occasional occurrence. Dumbledore is currently the Light Lord, and last I knew, He Who Must Not Be Named – who killed James and Lily – was the Dark Lord, though I am unaware of who will now hold the mantle. As I say, Dumbledore holds a lot of power as the Light Lord, and will likely have used that to his advantage to escape opposition over his actions regarding Harry.”</p>
<p>Here, he pauses, because his throat is tight with the thought of James’ death, and the clear desire in Petunia’s expression to ask a question provides a suitable excuse for him to take a second and compose himself once more.</p>
<p>“This… ‘Dark’ faction,” she hedges. “They were allowed a mass murderer as their ‘Lord’?”</p>
<p>“It’s…” Salazar hesitates, trying to find the right word, and eventually settles on, “Complicated. He was charismatic, held a lot of sway among the Heirs of traditionally Dark families, and he was magically powerful, too. A suitable candidate. No one realised that his plans were not simply to lead the Dark, but to rule the country – and possibly the world. By the time it became clear…”</p>
<p>Trailing off, he shakes his head and grimaces.</p>
<p>“Normally, the Lords of the Dark and Light – and Grey – <em>are</em> Lords in their own right, but it is not a requirement. If someone holds sufficient power and footing in, say, the Dark, then they may simply become the Dark Lord on their own merit. He Who Must Not Be Named had simply too much power. It was something of a coup, really. It became an all-out war, and many lives were lost over more than a decade.”</p>
<p>“A <em>decade</em>…” Petunia whispers, Salazar nodding in grim confirmation, trying not to think too hard himself about how much longer it all stretched on for after he found himself displaced.</p>
<p>“I have much to catch up on regarding current affairs and the impact of the war,” he admits. “From what I gather, the foundations remain the same, but I am reasonably certain that some things will have changed. Once I know where everything stands, I will start to become active as Lord Potter, to repair the damage done by Dumbledore over the last… however many years.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t know how old his nephew is, he realises – never mind how long it has been since James and Lily died. All Gornuk told him was that the war lasted more than a decade, and that it ended when Harry somehow survived a killing curse – which Salazar really must look into, too.</p>
<p>“The damage?” Vernon asks, speaking for the first time since Salazar starts his explanation, and though he does not seem to have followed it all quite so well as his wife, he looks suitably troubled.</p>
<p>“The Potter Family are traditionally Grey – and close to Dark, at that,” Salazar sighs, shifting his grip on his mug and only then realising that the tea inside has long since gone cold. “Dumbledore has used our seats for his Light agenda, directly against the views of our family. That will have to be rectified.”</p>
<p>
  <em>And Albus Dumbledore will have a lot to answer for.</em>
</p>
<p>“Until Harry is seventeen, I will remain Lord Potter as well as Lord Slytherin, and take on the responsibilities of teaching him – and your son, too, if you would like. I’m sure the lessons will be somewhat applicable to the non-magical world, if Dudley does not turn out to have magical capabilities himself.”</p>
<p>“Dudley?” Petunia blinks, glancing at her husband. “Magical?”</p>
<p>“Mmm…” Salazar cocks his head, a little surprised by her reaction. “You’ll likely have passed down your own latent magical ability, and with both your own presence and Harry around to cultivate it from an early age, I could well see Dudley exhibiting magical abilities.”</p>
<p>“<em>My</em> latent magical ability?” Petunia echoes, apparently bewildered. “What – I’m not…”</p>
<p>For several seconds, Salazar can only stare at her blankly, before realisation hits. He’s spent the last decade of his life seeking out those with magical abilities when one mistake could mean death for both himself and others; he doesn’t make mistakes about these things, and yet she’s clearly not faking her oblivious reaction.</p>
<p>“You don’t know about it?” he hedges carefully, mind starting to click through the gears as she shakes her head, because if the magic he can <em>clearly</em> feel coming from her isn’t the most she can manage with full effort, then there must be more to come; she <em>must</em> have some usable ability, surely. “In that case, I feel that the best thing to do would be for you to come with me when I return to Gringotts next week, and we’ll see about cultivating that – if, of course, you wish to.”</p>
<p>“Cultivating it?” she repeats, eyes wide.</p>
<p>“So you can use it,” Salazar nods. “I don’t think you’ll ever be a natural spell-caster, but I’m sure you could manage a few things with the right wand in your hand.”</p>
<p>Her frantic nod is something of a surprise, but he decides not to question it or the desperate glint in her eyes, merely returning the nod more sedately.</p>
<p>“I’ll teach all three of you, then,” he settles on. “Dudley and Harry, I’ll teach what Dumbledore should already have taught Harry – and more besides. You, I’ll provide the education you should have had alongside your sister.”</p>
<p>To tell the truth, Salazar’s more than a little exhausted by the constant need to adapt to everything new which is thrown at him. In one day, he’s lost his family, friends, home and work, returned to his original time – at least, in line with his body’s aging – and discovered that his previous family is dead and buried, and found a new family instead, alongside an apparent long-term plot from, Salazar can only assume, the Light Lord himself. After all, it would have been Dumbledore who decided not to admit Petunia Dursley, or whatever her surname was back then, and Salazar can’t help but wonder who else, besides Petunia and himself, has been denied their proper education by the man simply for not having the ‘right’ kind of magical ability.</p>
<p><em>As if there could </em>ever<em> be a ‘right’ kind.</em></p>
<p>“Perhaps,” he begins, stifling a sudden yawn, “We should continue this tomorrow. I will finish explaining what I need to, you can tell me what we know, and then… Well, then we can go from there, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Vernon nods, smile understanding, and Salazar reflects briefly that it’s strange how familiar they seem after just one day.</p>
<p>He tries not to think about the fact that he could just be getting used to starting anew.</p>
<p>“Come on,” the larger man continues, apparently oblivious to Salazar’s musings. “We’ll introduce you to Harry and Dudley properly.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow, this has gotten more attention than I expected. I mean, I knew the Harry Potter fandom was big, but this was... more than I expected. I guess that's what happens when you're not a huge fan of the main pairing in a small fandom. </p><p>Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'll be updating the tags a bit at some point now that I have actually finished this - and by 'this', I mean the first fic of the series. Because yes, it's going to be a series.</p><p>Hope everyone's surviving quarantine!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the 31<sup>st</sup> July, 1991, Harry Potter bounds down the stairs, past the door to the kitchen – catching a glimpse of Uncle Salazar and Aunt Petunia already making breakfast as he goes, with Uncle Salazar likely providing quiet guidance on various household charms, as he’s wont to do – and all the way down the hall to the front door, skidding to a halt with a wide beam as he spots the envelope waiting for him with its familiar green ink and scarily precise address.</p><p>“Is it there, Haz?” Dudley calls from the stairs, following at a more sedate pace but grinning almost as widely as Harry himself.</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry beams, picking the letter up and waving it at his cousin, whose entire face lights up at once; Harry barely has time to brace himself before Dudley launches himself the rest of the way down the stairs and the hall in seemingly one jump to envelope Harry in a crushing embrace. “<em>Oof</em> – Dud, Jesus…”</p><p>“Sorry,” Dudley grins, very much unapologetic as he draws back to ruffle Harry’s hair. “We’re going to <em>Hogwarts</em>, Haz!”</p><p>“<em>You</em> already knew,” Harry reminds him, rolling his eyes with a huff, and Dudley pokes him in fond retribution. “Now <em>move</em> – I’m starving, and it’s my birthday.”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” Dudley grumbles, stepping aside without his grin falling once. “Happy Birthday, Harry, etc., etc….”</p><p>It takes all of Harry’s self-restraint not to bounce into the kitchen as eagerly as he descended the stairs, though the reward of Uncle Salazar’s approving nod makes it all worth it.</p><p>“Are we going shopping today, then?” he can’t help demanding even as he crosses to the sink to wash his hands, his letter placed on the table for Uncle Salazar to scan through, and gets a fond smile from his Aunt alongside a nod.</p><p>“Just remember that Vernon’s still sleeping,” she reminds him and Dudley softly, flicking her wand to start transferring plates of food over to the table for them; watching her perform magic is still a little strange, in all honesty, but Harry likes the way her eyes light up each and every time, as though she’s silently marvelling over the feat. “He’ll be staying home today.”</p><p>A little guilty, Harry quietens and settles at the table to wait while Uncle Salazar finishes reading the letter. Uncle Vernon got hit on the head in last week’s match and hasn’t been able to work while he recovers from concussion, so they’ve been trying to stay as quiet as possible and let him rest, while still working to cheer him up when he’s in a good enough condition for it.</p><p>“All looks good,” Uncle Salazar assures him with a smile, handing the letter back, and Harry beams, scanning through it himself with the realisation that he hasn’t <em>actually</em> read it all the way through yet.</p><p>Even having read Dudley’s when it arrived, there’s something so incredibly thrilling about reading the same words when addressed to himself.</p><p>“We’re going to stop at Gringotts first,” Aunt Petunia tells them over breakfast as Uncle Salazar scans through The Prophet with a small frown. “We’ve got to get some money out, and Salazar has a few things to pick up. Then we’ll go through the lists and get what we need to – wands first, I think, as those will be easiest to carry, and Salazar can look for your potions supplies while you’re doing that.”</p><p>Harry’s eager nod is synchronised with Dudley’s, twin beams splitting their faces, and as Aunt Petunia looks between them, her smile is soft and fond.</p><p>“Well done both of you,” she tells them. “And Happy Birthday, Harry.”</p><p>“Oh!” Uncle Salazar blinks, making a show of looking up and around at all of them. “Is it your birthday, Harry? I never realised.”</p><p>Pouting, Harry resists the urge to kick him. Uncle Salazar is the smartest man he’s ever met, but <em>definitely</em> the most annoying, too – besides the people who are actually annoying, like the weirdos who stop them to gush over Harry’s scar whenever they go to Diagon Alley.</p><p>“You’re mean,” he settles on muttering, Uncle Salazar’s smile far too satisfied.</p><p>“Thank you,” his uncle returns. “Happy Birthday. Now finish your breakfast, both of you, or we might not have time to stop at Fortescue’s –”</p><p>Harry starts shovelling food into his mouth before Uncle Salazar has even finished, effectively drowning out the rest of the threat. There’s <em>no way</em> he’s missing out on that treat.</p><p>Two hours later, they emerge blinking into the sunlight, the dingy wealth of Gringotts at their backs as Uncle Salazar lifts the amulet Gornuk had handed him and slips it over his head; Harry watches in interest as it glints on the man’s chest, until Uncle Salazar rearranges it to be entirely hidden by his clothing.</p><p>“What’s that for?” Dudley asks quietly, apparently similarly intrigued, and Uncle Salazar glances between them before sharing a look with Aunt Petunia.</p><p>“It’s… a way to keep me in one place, hopefully,” he tells them, Harry reading easily between the lines to pick out what Uncle Salazar doesn’t want to be overheard saying; his uncle has spent the last year – more – recreating his and his friends’ old work to ‘stabilise’ his magic, whatever that means, with the help of the goblins, and this must be the fruit of their labour, designed to stop any further time-travel incidents.</p><p><em>That explains the sadness in his eyes when he first put it on</em>, Harry thinks to himself as they make their way down the crowded street towards Ollivander’s. Uncle Salazar might be committed to staying here, with them, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss his other family. Harry can’t imagine being torn away from one family, and then another, and then having to make the choice to never have a chance at going back, in order to not be torn away a third time. Certainly, it means a lot that Uncle Salazar would put so much effort into staying with them and continuing to help them all.</p><p>Things have changed a lot since Uncle Salazar arrived, really. They’ve moved to a new house, with an extra bedroom, larger gardens and lots of countryside around; Uncle Salazar was very insistent when they moved that they find somewhere with close connections to nature. Harry’s learnt so much about a world which he had only ever heard of in passing, and he doesn’t think it will ever get old to see Aunt Petunia wave her wand and fix a broken mug or plate. Finding out that Dudley, too, has magic certainly explained a lot of the incidents of accidental magic that Harry was <em>sure</em> weren’t his fault. Still, there have been hard times as well; Uncle Salazar is somewhat in hiding, keeping his identity to himself and not making any big statements yet. He’s tried many times to explain the benefit of moving slowly and subtly to both Harry and Dudley, and Harry thinks he’s <em>starting</em> to get it, though he’s still not sure why his uncle can’t just announce all of Dumbledore’s crimes to the Wizengamot and get him kicked out.</p><p>It’s what he’d do.</p><p>The ringing of a bell draws Harry from his thoughts with the realisation that Uncle Salazar has departed and they’re entering Ollivander’s, and he lifts his head to gape around at the towers upon towers of wands stacked up against every wall – and in the middle of the room, too, left to teeter dangerously as though breathing too hard might send the whole thing scattering. Really, it’s an organisational nightmare – a bit like Dudley’s desk, he reflects with a bitten-off grin.</p><p>“Ah, Mr Potter and Mr Dursley.”</p><p>The soft whisper makes Harry jump, and he just about hears Aunt Petunia’s quiet laugh at both his and Dudley’s reactions before he finds himself preoccupied with the old man who has somehow crept up behind them all. Next to him, Dudley lets out a shaky breath – his cousin <em>hates </em>being snuck up on in unfamiliar places – and Harry reaches out automatically to squeeze his hand, getting a grateful smile in return.</p><p>“Forgive an old man his fun,” the newcomer smiles at them. “I am Garrick Ollivander – you must be here for wands?”</p><p>Harry nods without a word, transfixed by the pale, silvery eyes which stare back at him, and the even-paler skin that almost seems to glow in the gloom of the shop.</p><p>“Very well, then!” Mr Ollivander smiles, rubbing his hands eagerly. “Who wants to go first? Mr Dursley? Wand hand?”</p><p>“Left,” Dudley mutters, apparently not yet over his earlier fright, but Mr Ollivander seems unconcerned, merely pulling out a tape measure and setting it to work, scribbling down numbers as he goes then finally stilling the tape measure with a flick of his wand.</p><p>As the man disappears among the many piles of boxes which crowd the shop, Harry shares a glance with Dudley, grimacing but trying to remain reassuring, and is pleased when Dudley nudges him in return. This is meant to be a fun day, and as new and confusing as a lot of it will be, they’re going to enjoy every second.</p><p>“Here,” Mr Ollivander announces, appearing before them and holding out a wand to Dudley, who takes it nervously and, with a quick glance to Aunt Petunia for reassurance, flicks it. “No, no, no!”</p><p>The wand is gone in an instant, Dudley blinking in surprise and shrugging at Harry; nothing <em>major</em> happened, but apparently, Mr Ollivander didn’t like what he saw.</p><p>“This,” Mr Ollivander tells Dudley. “Try this.”</p><p>Again, the wand is snatched from Dudley’s grip, and the next, too.</p><p>“I think… perhaps…” Mr Ollivander reaches out, withdrawing a box carefully, and holds it out to Dudley. “This.”</p><p>Dudley takes the wand, and instantly, his face lights up with a brilliant beam; when he flicks it, a cool breeze sweeps the stuffy shop, and Mr Ollivander hums in satisfied approval, nodding. Harry grins, pleased for his cousin and not afraid to show it, and catches Petunia’s smile out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>“Ash with a unicorn hair core, twelve inches,” Mr Ollivander declares, nodding. “<em>Very</em> loyal. It will serve you well, Mr Dursley. Now, Mr Potter…”</p><p>By the time Mr Ollivander has handed him his seventh wand, the old man’s eyes are alight with glee, and Harry takes a moment to feel bemused that he seems to take so much joy from this before comfortable warmth seeps up his arm and through his body, settling into his bones as he relaxes instinctively.</p><p>“Curious,” Mr Ollivander mumbles. “Very curious.”</p><p>“Sorry, Sir, but what’s curious?” Harry asks, because it’s clearly what Mr Ollivander is fishing for; Uncle Salazar does the same thing, sometimes, and Harry can’t deny that he’s taken on the trait himself.</p><p>“The phoenix who gave the feather for your wand gave exactly one other feather,” Mr Ollivander tells him slowly. “I remember every wand I’ve sold, Mr Potter. The brother of your wand, I sold to the man who gave you that scar.”</p><p><em>Because it’s </em>always<em> about the scar, isn’t it?</em></p><p>“In fact, I was going to attempt to bind the feather in your core with holly,” Mr Ollivander continues, apparently oblivious to Harry’s need to roll his eyes. “Something just told me to try use a different feather for that. Everything happens for a reason, Mr Potter.”</p><p>For a beat, silence falls, Harry starting to feel just ever so slightly spooked – not that he’d ever admit it.</p><p>“Fir, phoenix feather in the core, eleven and a half inches,” Mr Ollivander announces, breaking out of his trance and ending the moment instantly. “A survivor’s wand if ever I’ve made one.”</p><p>Aunt Petunia pays quickly after that, ushering them out of the shop and down the street to the Apothecary, where they agreed to meet Uncle Salazar.</p><p>“That was weird,” Dudley mutters, Harry unable to summon anything more than a wordless nod of agreement. “I don’t want to go back there if I can help it.”</p><p>That, too, Harry has to agree with.</p><p>Luckily, the rest of the shopping trip passes easily enough, Uncle Salazar admiring both of their wands when he sees them before leading them to the bookshop, then to Madam Malkin’s for robes, and eventually onwards to buy an owl for each of the boys; Harry settles on a beautiful snowy owl, which he names Hedwig, and has to smile at the cute, if slightly ruffled, barn owl that Dudley falls instantly in love with.</p><p>“I’ll call you Fluff,” he hears his cousin proclaim on the way home. “Because that’s what you are. A ball of fluff.”</p><p>The newly-named Fluff shakes himself and only succeeds in looking even more like his eponym.</p><p> </p><p>“Now,” Uncle Salazar starts seriously, kneeling to meet both of their eyes, “You both need to remember your lessons, understood? And be polite, unless someone else insults one of you two first – and <em>only</em> one of you two. I don’t want either of you getting caught up in an ancient blood feud without realising it. Study hard, make friends, and have fun. Learn some new things, but be sensible about what is and isn’t right. Remember, if Dumbledore tries to get you alone, just say, ‘My Lord doesn’t want me to talk to the Light Lord without my Lord present.’ He can’t force you, and neither can anyone else, no matter what they say. If he pushes beyond that, you get out your mirror and contact me or Petunia or Vernon at once, understood?”</p><p>“Yes, Uncle Salazar,” Harry responds dutifully, in synchronisation with Dudley; it’s the fifth time they’ve heard the speech, and Harry rather thinks he might know it off by heart.</p><p>“Good,” Uncle Salazar nods, then draws in a deep breath before letting it back out. “Good. The castle is your friend, yes? Don’t be afraid to ask it for help.”</p><p>With that, he stands and steps aside for Aunt Petunia to crouch and embrace them both.</p><p>“I love you both,” she whispers, kissing the tops of their heads in turn. “Look out for each other, forget those silly house rivalries, and behave. Don’t forget what Salazar has told you.”</p><p>“Yes, Mum,” Dudley nods, Harry echoing the sentiment, and finally, Uncle Vernon takes his turn.</p><p>“You take care, boys,” he tells them sternly. “Stay fit – keep up your exercise, <em>and</em> your non-magical studies. Don’t hesitate to ask any of us for help, or to write or talk to us through the mirrors about anything. We’ll see you at Christmas, alright?”</p><p>“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” Harry agrees easily, Dudley murmuring his own acknowledgement, and with that, it’s time to board the train.</p><p>With each step towards it, Harry can feel his stomach twisting into increasingly tight knots, anticipation mixing with nerves as excitement twitches in his fingers, and at his side, Dudley seems no better. This is it; they’re off to Hogwarts, the school Uncle Salazar created, which his parents went to, and his father’s parents, too… Yes, Dumbledore will be there, and he could cause trouble. Yes, it will be hard to keep up with their maths and science, though creative clubs shouldn’t be hard to find for other studies. Yes, there will be lots of new people in a very new place, and not all of them will be nice. They have each other, though, and nothing – <em>nothing at all</em> – can temper the exhilaration which rushes through Harry every time he thinks about what’s to come.</p><p>They’re going to Hogwarts.</p><p>The train is reasonably empty when they get on, and it isn’t that hard to find a compartment – one of the advantages of arriving early, Harry thinks. Dudley gets their trunks up onto the racks fairly easily, Harry letting his more muscular cousin take over the heavy lifting in his place with only an eye-roll; Dudley will always be bulkier than he is, and certainly, it’s not something that Harry has tried too hard to rectify, given that Dudley has his eyes set firmly on playing in the pack in senior rugby, while Harry knows that he’s far more likely to be destined for scrum-half.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” a girl around their age announces when they’ve been sat for a good five minutes, the platform and corridor outside the compartment far busier now, and the hesitantly-raised fist suggests that she has already knocked, but that they didn’t hear. “Do you mind if I –”</p><p>She grimaces, losing her words as she’s buffeted sideways by the merciless stream of students, and Dudley takes instant pity on her, beckoning her in.</p><p>“Come in!” he welcomes happily. “Are you in your first year?”</p><p>“Yes,” she nods, glancing up at the rack and then down at her suitcase, brow creasing as she appears to consider the best approach to such a problem. “Yes, I…”</p><p>“Here, let me,” Dudley offers, standing and reaching for the suitcase but only lifting when she nods in acquiescence, then holds out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Dudley, this is Harry.”</p><p>Harry leans over to shake her hand as well, nodding in greeting.</p><p>“I’m Hermione,” she tells them, smiling nervously, and Harry can’t help but think that her buckteeth make the expression particularly adorable. “Were you two… surprised? To find out about all of this?”</p><p>Harry glances at Dudley then shrugs.</p><p>“We knew,” he admits. “Our uncle taught us all about it – he’s a wizard himself.”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Dudley adds when her eyes widen with worry. “You’ll catch up quickly enough, I swear. They can give you extra support as well – they do that for anyone who needs it, and you definitely won’t be the only one. And if you have any questions, we’d be happy to answer them or help you out.”</p><p>“Really?” she asks, eyes wide and hopeful. “You’d do that?”</p><p>“Of course,” Harry agrees. “That’s what friends do, right?”</p><p>It’s a step, of course, but as Uncle Salazar would say, sometimes it’s better to simply assert a close relationship with someone. To both his satisfaction and relief, Hermione nods frantically, smile bright as she blushes a little, and Harry’s happy to return the expression with a grin of his own.</p><p>Hermione, it turns out, talks a <em>lot</em> when she’s nervous. She also seems to be quite socially awkward, but given what she tells them about how others have treated her at school, Harry isn’t surprised. Really, he just feels a little sorry for her, and very much determined to help her improve and find her feet <em>without</em> people beating her down all the time. He can’t imagine going through life with so many people acting so cruelly towards him; he’d be a very different person, he thinks, and he’s not sure he’d like that person so much. At least Hermione’s parents are supportive of her, he supposes, and she certainly hasn’t let anyone stop her from pursuing the knowledge that she seems to value so desperately.</p><p><em>Good for her</em>, he thinks.</p><p>“So, what house do you think you’ll be in?” she asks them both once she’s finished explaining the strict rules of tooth care that her parents have set out for her – both dentists, apparently. “I rather like the sound of Ravenclaw, but…”</p><p>She looks down, squirming, and her cheeks flush a little as she shrugs.</p><p>“What’s wrong with Ravenclaw?” Harry asks, curious.</p><p>“What if I’m not smart enough?” she admits in barely more than a whisper, though something about the way she says it makes Harry sure that she’s fairly sure she is; it’s more a passing insecurity, and certainly not the main problem. “And what if people don’t like me because of it?”</p><p>“We’ll like you,” Dudley tells her at once. “You’re nice, you’re open-minded, and I actually really like how smart you are.”</p><p>Admittedly, they don’t really know her well enough yet to judge her intelligence, but they’ve got a pretty solid foundation to base the assumption that’s she clever on.</p><p>“And you won’t be the only one,” Harry adds, the sheer level of relief on Hermione’s face nothing short of astounding on hearing that.</p><p>“Oh,” she murmurs, slumping back into her seat, then beams. “Well, in that case, I’d love to be in Ravenclaw. What about you? Or would you rather just wait and see?”</p><p>“Well, I’d quite like to be in Hufflepuff,” Dudley starts slowly. “You know, loyalty and hard work – I like the sound of that. Harry doesn’t know yet, do you?”</p><p>Harry shakes his head in confirmation, pulling a face.</p><p>“I don’t think I’m a Slytherin,” he offers. “Maybe a Gryffindor? I don’t really mind so much, as long as it’s the right place for me.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s fair enough,” Hermione nods. “I’ve heard some bad things about Slytherin – but I can’t imagine they’re true. Who’d allow that sort of blatant prejudice in a school?”</p><p>Harry can’t help but grimace a little.</p><p>“Actually…” he hedges. “I mean, it’s not meant to be. Despite the legends, it wasn’t <em>made</em> to be a house that excludes muggleborns. It’s just… with the way politics has warped, that’s what it started to give the impression of, and these days, most of the students don’t remember <em>why</em> – they just think they’re not meant to like muggleborns.”</p><p>At least, that’s what Uncle Salazar says, and really, if anyone would know what they’re talking about when it comes to this, it’s him; Slytherin has always been a more Dark-leaning house than the rest, so when muggleborns started to bring more of their traditions in to take over the magical community’s own heritage, Slytherin started to close ranks. Unfortunately, bitterness and hatred started to fester within, directed outwards at those who were unknowingly trampling their own tradition, and so the prejudice began. That, however, won’t really help Hermione now.</p><p>“What if I wanted to go to Slytherin?” she demands. “Could they <em>stop</em> me?”</p><p>“If you were suited for it and you wanted to go, you’d be in,” Dudley shrugs. “Just as long as you don’t try and get in the way of their traditions – that’s <em>why</em> it started, originally. They didn’t like that their traditions were being ruined by muggleborns bringing in all their own things and expecting everyone else to follow along. It would be a <em>very</em> rocky start though – you might want to learn some protection spells quickly.”</p><p>Hermione’s wide eyes flick from Dudley to Harry and then back again, then she slumps back in her seat, shaking her head and mouthing ‘<em>protection spells</em>’ in silence.</p><p>Eventually, they fall back into lighter conversation, discussing their plans to keep up their non-magical education on the side; Hermione seems thrilled to know that she won’t be the only one attempting to do so, and Dudley’s suggestion of a study group – perhaps with others who might be interested – goes down very well. Harry finds himself relaxing, the nerves starting to settle into something quieter and easier to handle, though the excitement continues to fizz in his chest.</p><p>It’s a few hours in that the door to the compartment slides open, and one look at the blond hair of their new arrival tells Harry exactly who he’s talking to.</p><p>“Heir Malfoy,” he greets politely, exactly as Uncle Salazar has always taught him, and Draco Malfoy blinks at him, but holds out a hand.</p><p>“Heir Potter,” he returns after a quick flick of grey eyes up to Harry’s scar. “I was looking for you.”</p><p>Surprised and little unsure what to think, Harry struggles briefly for a response.</p><p>“Well, you’ve found me,” he settles on finally, the newcomer’s lips twitching in the beginnings of a quickly-suppressed grin. “And please, call me Harry.”</p><p>“Draco, then,” the newly-dubbed Draco agrees with a smile. “I was just wondering… Forgive my rudeness, I mean, but I was just wondering if the rumours were true – that you were on the train.”</p><p>
  <em>Right.</em>
</p><p>“Well, you’ve got your answer,” Harry returns, but isn’t satisfied to leave it at that; it feels a little unfriendly, and Uncle Salazar would <em>not</em> be impressed if he got off on the wrong foot with Draco for such a trivial reason – neither would Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, for that matter. “Why don’t you sit with us for a bit? This is my cousin, Dudley Dursley, and this is Hermione Granger.”</p><p>“Muggleborns?” Draco asks, a faint sneer curling his lip, and Harry sees Hermione stiffen in the corner of his eye as he meets Draco’s gaze calmly.</p><p>“Yes,” he returns. “Is that a problem? They’re here to learn our ways – wouldn’t you like to introduce them to <em>proper</em> magical culture?”</p><p>Draco hovers for a moment, clearly reading the message in Harry’s words – his parents will have exposed him to far too much political discussion for him not to see it clear as day – but caught between the still highly-prized Dark ideals of passing on customs to all those without proper knowledge of them and the newer prejudices that he has surely been taught.</p><p>His desire to make nice with Harry seems to win out.</p><p>“If they’re willing to learn,” he allows reluctantly, lifting his chin with a small sniff as he enters. “Do you mind if my companions join?”</p><p>Harry blinks, having entirely missed the two larger boys standing outside, but nods all the same.</p><p>“This is Heir Crabbe,” Draco introduces, “And Heir Goyle.”</p><p>“Vincent,” Heir Crabbe tells Harry gruffly, reaching out for a handshake; despite the shortness of his introduction, he seems more awkward than purposefully unfriendly.</p><p>“Please, call me Gregory,” Heir Goyle requests as he, too, shakes Harry’s hand.</p><p>When all necessary handshakes and greetings have been exchanged, the three new boys sit, Hermione shifting over to join Harry and Dudley to allow them to sit together.</p><p>“Dudley has actually been joining me in my lessons,” Harry offers before anyone else can speak. “He knows as much about our customs as I do – which is admittedly less than we should, given, well…”</p><p>Uncle Salazar told them not to be too obvious about everything Dumbledore did, but he did say that it would be good to squeeze it into a few conversations with people whose parents would want to know that kind of thing, so Harry thinks his uncle would rather approve of the meaningful look he shares with Dudley and the instant curiosity which lights in his companions’ eyes.</p><p>“Given what?” Vincent asks, brow creasing as he glances between Harry and Dudley.</p><p>“Oh…” Harry waves a hand dismissively. “The man who originally had responsibility for that sort of thing failed to educate me in anything. I really shouldn’t be surprised, him being the Light Lord and all – it would really be furthering his own agenda to leave me completely in the dark, no matter how badly it would’ve turned out for me.”</p><p>“<em>Dumbledore</em> was meant to have responsibility for your education as Heir Potter?” Draco demands, apparently flabbergasted. “Of all the – Why <em>him</em>? Who would give the Light Lord responsibility for the Heir of a Grey family?”</p><p>“Himself,” Dudley answers in Harry’s place, shrugging as Draco merely gapes. “He wasn’t meant to, but he took control of the whole Potter estate – spent a load of Harry’s inheritance, and it took Gringotts two weeks to get it all back once we found out what he’d done.”</p><p>Two weeks, of course, is a terribly long time for the goblins to spend on anything financial.</p><p>“<em>Merlin</em>,” Draco whispers, shaking his head. “That’s awful – I’m sorry to hear that.”</p><p>“It was rectified eventually,” Harry assures him, and decides not to mention the use of his Wizengamot seats for the time being. “Dudley and I are a little concerned about going to Hogwarts with him as Headmaster, of course.”</p><p>“I can <em>imagine</em>…” Draco breathes. “Well, surely if people knew, they wouldn’t stand for something like that!”</p><p>“We don’t want to rock the boat too much,” Harry explains, glancing only briefly around the compartment before adding, “Yet.”</p><p>Slowly, Draco nods, seeming to consider everything that Harry has just said for a long moment, then shifts and straightens up.</p><p>“I say, did you hear about the break-in at Gringotts?”</p><p>Fortunately, as the conversation settles into regular topics, Draco, Vincent and Gregory remain cordial with both Hermione and Dudley, and, by the time they realise that they should probably be getting into their school robes, there’s no more distance in those interactions than when Harry talks to the three purebloods himself. Hopefully, it will stay that way once they’ve all been sorted, though Harry would be a fool to think that there won’t still be <em>some</em> barriers to break down.</p><p>“Merlin,” Gregory groans, stretching as he stands. “I can’t believe we spent so long here – Pansy will be livid.”</p><p>“Don’t mind her,” Draco snorts, also standing. “She’s all bark and no bite. Harry, Hermione, Dudley… We’ll see you later. It’s been good to meet you all.”</p><p>Harry returns the sentiment happily, waving them out of the compartment, then stands to shake out his limbs.</p><p>“Right, who’s getting changed first?”</p><p> </p><p>By the time the train pulls into Hogsmeade Station, it’s almost pitch-black beyond the windows, the platform lit only by flickering lamps, and Harry almost stumbles as he disembarks, cursing under his breath before squinting through the rain in an attempt to work out which way to go.</p><p>“Firs’ years!” a voice calls above the hustle and bustle of much older students, and Harry finds his eyes drawn to a lamp hanging on the end of a stick – which in turn is held aloft by the largest man Harry has ever seen in his life. “Firs’ years, over ‘ere!”</p><p>Beside him, Dudley glances around as if to check that both he and Hermione are still present, then starts towards the call, Harry following behind with Hermione in tow. Soon enough, they fall into step with Draco, Vincent and Gregory, alongside another boy and girl, neither of whom Harry recognises. Between the eight of them, it’s much easier to work their way through the milling older years after that, students stepping aside to let them through, and Harry hears more than one exclamation from older girls of how <em>cute</em> they all look; he has to roll his eyes, huffing a little in unheard protest.</p><p>“Is tha’ everybody?” the large man asks shortly after they arrive, peering out over all of them. “Yep? I’m Rubeus ‘agrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds ‘ere at ‘ogwarts.”</p><p><em>Ah, Hagrid</em>. Both Uncle Salazar and Aunt Petunia have mentioned Hagrid, having apparently featured in letters home from both of Harry’s parents. From what they’ve said, he seems like a decent bloke, although his cooking might be best avoided. A half-giant, if he remembers correctly.</p><p>“This way, then!” Hagrid tells them, beckoning them down a small, unlit path, soaked in rainwater and entirely too slippery to be safely navigated in the dark, though Harry refuses to let it bother him as the excitement and nerves start to swell once more; he’s <em>here</em>, at <em>Hogwarts</em>.</p><p>Ahead of Harry, a boy stumbles, feet sliding out from underneath him, and Dudley lurches forward to support the boy, barely keeping his own footing in the process but luckily managing to hold them both upright.</p><p>“Mind yer step!” Hagrid calls belatedly, Harry yet again unable to resist rolling his eyes. “Jus’ around this corner, now, you should get yer firs’ glimpse o’ Hogwarts!”</p><p>Harry hears the gasps before he sees the castle for himself, and for the briefest of split seconds, he allows himself a sliver of amusement at the awed sounds, but really, it more than deserves the reaction; it’s a magnificent sight, towering far above a glistening lake, its warmth seeming to call across the distance to welcome them in. This, he registers, is to be his home for much of the next seven years, and he honestly couldn’t be happier with what he sees.</p><p>“Four to a boat!” Hagrid calls next, Harry tearing his gaze slowly from the castle itself to stare at the boats before them.</p><p><em>They’re going to travel by </em>boat<em>?</em></p><p>“<em>Brilliant</em>!” Dudley breathes, a beam splitting his features as he tugs Harry forward. “Come on, Harry, Hermione. Draco, do you want to join us?”</p><p>Draco hesitates, glancing briefly at his other companions, then nods and follows them to settle in next to Harry, apparently content to stare down into the black depths of the water. Harry watches him for a second, amused, but decides to leave him to it; maybe Draco would be up for a swim at some point, when the weather is warmer.</p><p>When the boats start to move, Hermione gasps, jolting in shock and clutching at Dudley’s knee. Harry watches his cousin shift awkwardly, trying to bite back a grin, but can’t resist the urge to raise his eyebrows when he catches Dudley’s eyes, mildly disappointed when all he gets in return is a shake of Dudley’s head. Still, he doesn’t push, instead turning first to watch the path ahead of them, through the clear, glassy expanse of water which stretches out to disappear behind thick clouds of mist, and then to see their progress so far, the dock already fading behind silvery fog as well. Somehow, it just adds the magic of everything.</p><p>All too soon, their boat ride is over, and Harry steps out first with Draco supporting from behind, turning to help the blond, then Hermione, out onto the side and leaving Dudley to sort himself out with a mischievous grin, which earns him a gentle shove in return once Dudley has finished staggering precariously to find his balance.</p><p>“You’re very welcome,” Harry tells him happily.</p><p>Hagrid leads them up a small stairwell through the rockface, Harry all too aware of his new year-mates panting for breath by the time they reach the door at the top. Really, it wasn’t <em>that</em> bad a climb – but then, Uncle Vernon takes both him and Dudley running twice a week, which is probably more than most do, even if it is simply what he’s used to.</p><p>“Everyone still ‘ere?” Hagrid calls, twisting to look over them all, then nods and turns back to knock loudly on the door, which swings open at once to reveal a tall, dark-haired witch in emerald robes. “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.”</p><p>“Thank you, Hagrid,” Professor McGonagall tells him, nodding with a purse of her lips before turning to the students, and Harry finds himself straightening under her gaze; this isn’t, he thinks, someone to cross readily.</p><p>Without another word, she turns to lead them into the castle, across what Harry can only assume is the entrance hall and into a small room, waiting while they all crowd in and bunch themselves in the middle before speaking.</p><p>“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she begins finally, when they’re all watching her; the words spark a small, exhilarated fizz beneath Harry’s skin, and he can’t help but beam, Dudley bouncing ever so slightly next to him. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with your housemates, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend much of your free time in your house common room.”</p><p>Harry is pleased to note that not once does she make any attempt to discourage interaction or friendships between houses.</p><p>“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup – a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”</p><p>She pauses, there, and takes a moment to look over each of them in turn, as if assessing their inner worth. Harry lifts his chin and stares right back, determined not to make a bad first impression.</p><p>“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school,” she continues, slightly more gently, though the stern note returns to her voice as she glances over them one last time. “I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting – I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”</p><p>Silent, Harry watches her leave, then turns to grin at Dudley, Hermione and Draco, who still remains with them despite his other friends being on the opposite side of the room.</p><p>“This is so exciting!” Hermione whispers. “How do you think they’ll sort us?”</p><p>Sharing a glance with Dudley, Harry decides not to ruin the surprise altogether – Uncle Salazar told them several months back – but, when he hears another boy mention a <em>troll</em>, of all things, and her face pales, he can’t resist the urge to reassure her a little.</p><p>“It’s nothing dangerous, don’t worry,” he tells her, and she relaxes, smiling gratefully at him. “It’s quite simple – you’ll see.”</p><p>“If you say so,” she replies, then becomes distracted by the ghosts drifting through the room, and Harry leaves her to gape, grinning at the incredulous eyebrow that Draco raises, the blond apparently unable to fathom that she has never come across a ghost before.</p><p>He’s at Hogwarts. He’s <em>in</em> Hogwarts – literally <em>inside the castle </em>– and in a few minutes, he’ll be sorted into his house for the next seven years. He really, really can’t wait.</p><p>By the time Professor McGonagall returns, he’s practically bouncing with excitement, unable to suppress the beam which splits his face at the prospect of what’s to come. Yes, it’s school, but as his mind keeps telling him, it’s <em>Hogwarts</em> – and Harry likes learning, really. Maybe he’s not so great at the self-discipline part, but he does like learning new things, and this is certainly the place to be for that.</p><p>“Follow me,” Professor McGonagall tells them, and Harry joins the rest in rushing to obey, sharing an eager grin with Dudley, and then Hermione, who walks on Dudley’s other side.</p><p>The Great Hall is both everything and nothing like Harry imagined it would be, and besides that, absolutely magnificent. The long tables, the elegant lighting, the sweeping architecture, the <em>ceiling</em> – which there really aren’t any words to describe – Harry can barely even begin to take it all in, and he suspects that he’ll be gawping around this place every single mealtime for the next few days. It doesn’t sound like a bad prospect.</p><p>As silence fills the hall, Harry drags his attention to the front, settling his gaze on a battered old stool, atop which sits an equally battered – or perhaps more so – pointed hat.</p><p><em>So</em>, the sceptical part of Harry’s mind whispers, <em>Uncle Salazar actually wasn’t lying.</em></p><p>Nearby, Draco shifts in restless confusion. Grinning, Harry nudges him, winks, and gestures forward once more as the hat’s brim opens.</p><p>“<em>Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,</em></p><p>
  <em>But don't judge on what you see,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'll eat myself if you can find</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A smarter hat than me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You can keep your bowlers black,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your top hats sleek and tall,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I can cap them all.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There's nothing hidden in your head</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Sorting Hat can't see,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So try me on and I will tell you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Where you ought to be.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You might belong in Gryffindor,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Where dwell the brave at heart,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Their daring, nerve, and chivalry</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Set Gryffindors apart;</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You might belong in Hufflepuff,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Where they are just and loyal,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Those patient Hufflepuffs are true</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And unafraid of toil;</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Where those of wit and learning,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will always find their kind;</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or perhaps in Slytherin</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You'll make your real friends,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Those cunning folk use any means</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To achieve their ends.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So put me on! Don't be afraid!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And don't get in a flap!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You're in safe hands (though I have none)</em>
</p><p><em>For I'm a Thinking Cap!</em>”</p><p>The look on Draco’s face is absolutely <em>priceless</em>; Harry couldn’t be more pleased with himself, unable to hide his smirk as the students around him break out into whispers, the sounds covered by the applause in the rest of the hall.</p><p>“When I call your name,” Professor McGonagall announces, the applause fading with her speech, “You will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.”</p><p>Mostly, Harry tunes out the Sorting, taking the time instead to work out where each of the Houses were: from left to right, it seems to go Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, then Hufflepuff. They all look like decent students, he thinks, though certainly with varying degrees of interest in the sorting.</p><p>“Crabbe, Vincent!” Professor McGonagall calls, and Harry turns briefly to watch Vincent be sorted into Slytherin before twisting to examine the braziers along the walls instead – or at least, what he can see of them from where he stands.</p><p>His attention is only drawn back by Dudley’s name, and he watches eagerly as his cousin trudges nervously up to the stool to set the hat on his head and sink onto the seat. For a moment, Harry holds his breath, fairly sure of where Dudley will go but still ever so slightly uncertain, and then –</p><p>“HUFFLEPUFF!”</p><p>What Dudley wanted – and what he thought. That’s good.</p><p>After that, he decides to keep watching the Sorting, though he ignores most of the names, only paying proper attention when Gregory is sent to Slytherin, as expected – and then it’s Hermione’s turn.</p><p><em>Ravenclaw,</em> Harry reminds himself, and is surprised when the hat doesn’t sort her instantly, instead seeming to hesitate for some time before, brim wide in a strange mockery of a beam, declaring,</p><p>“SLYTHERIN!”</p><p>Hermione’s smirk is victorious, her eyes flashing briefly over to meet Harry’s before she sets the hat down and turns towards the Slytherin table, apparently unbothered by the initially-hesitant applause. Luckily, by the time she slips into place next to Vincent, her new housemates are applauding as loudly as they would for anyone else, though Harry doesn’t miss the frowns on many faces. Hopefully, she’ll be alright.</p><p>“Well,” Draco remarks next to him, turning to raise an eyebrow at him, and Harry can only shrug back; his worry must show on his face, because Draco softens slightly. “Don’t worry, Harry – I’ll keep an eye out for her.”</p><p>Relieved, Harry nods his acknowledgement and doesn’t comment on how quickly Draco has moved from utter disdain of muggleborns to agreeing to protect Hermione from the majority of Slytherin House. Draco’s support, at least, will mean a lot for her among the many pureblood heirs within.</p><p>Draco, of course, goes to Slytherin himself – not that it was ever really in doubt, though Harry couldn’t help but feel a little worried all the same – and sits next to Hermione, sandwiching her between himself and Vincent and making an obvious show of shaking her hand. Five minutes later, the girl he’d been with when they all got off the train – Parkinson, Pansy – joins him, and she follows his lead, shaking Hermione’s hand with a polite, if somewhat hesitant, smile.</p><p>And then, before Harry knows it, it’s his turn.</p><p>“Potter, Harry!” Professor McGonagall calls, and the hall lights with whispers, Harry unable to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he trudges up the steps to settle on the stool, the hat slipping over his eyes to obscure his view.</p><p>Probably, he’ll be in Gryffindor, he reckons.</p><p>‘<em>Well, if that’s where you want to go, I wouldn’t argue too much,</em>’ an unfamiliar voice whispers in his ear – or maybe, into his very head – and Harry can’t stop himself from jumping a little, ‘<em>But really, I think you’d do better in Ravenclaw – such curiosity, such thirst for knowledge.</em>’</p><p>Well, it’s not that Harry minds so much – he’s never really thought that Ravenclaw might be an option for him, but it sounds nice enough. He <em>does</em> like learning, after all…</p><p>‘<em>Well, that settles it,</em>’ the voice – presumably, the hat – declares. <em>‘Better be…</em>’</p><p>“RAVENCLAW!”</p><p>Harry shoots a quick glance in Dudley’s direction as he goes, getting a thumbs up from his cousin before Dudley resumes his applause, then turns his own attention to finding a seat with the other first years and smiling nervously at them, wishing he knew at least one of them already.</p><p>“Hi, I’m Terry,” one of the boys tells him, reaching out with a friendly smile to shake his hand. “Terry Boot. Harry, right?”</p><p>Harry nods, relieved, and takes the hand with a smile of his own, happy to let Terry introduce him to Mandy, Stephen, Michael, Anthony, Sue, Isobel and Padma. He’s not sure that he’ll remember <em>all</em> of their names straight away, but he resolves to do his best and at least have them learnt by the end of the week. <em>Should</em> be manageable, right?</p><p>Fortunately, Terry repeats the introductions for both Oliver, who joins them soon after, and Lisa, who comes a minute or two after that. Terry, Mandy, Stephen, Michael, Anthony, Sue, Isobel, Padma, himself, Oliver and Lisa. Got it.</p><p>Hopefully.</p><p>The final name to be called turns out to be Draco’s other unknown friend – Zabini, Blaise – and once he’s been sorted into Slytherin, Harry is more than happy to tune out Dumbledore’s strange words and tuck into the dinner that appears. By the time desert is over and they’ve stumbled their way through the ‘school song’, which, judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, isn’t a normal occurrence, he’s utterly drained, just longing for bed, and it’s a relief to be shown to the common room and straight up to bed by the prefects whose names he barely registers. After that, it’s just a matter of changing into his pyjamas, brushing his teeth, and murmuring a sleepy ‘good night’ to his new dormmates before snuggling down into a warm bed and drifting off almost at once.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope quarantine is treating everyone well and you're all managing to get out and about while staying safe. I just wanted to say - I do have a fairly good idea of where this is going, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear your thoughts and feelings on this; I refine a lot of my ideas and work out the trickier plot points by discussing it all with my twin, so I'm certainly not going to be offended by anything you want to add!</p>
<p>Beyond that, please do enjoy (or not - I won't force you...)!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Harry wakes, it takes him some time, lying tangled in warm bedclothes and drifting hazily along at a low level of consciousness, to register that the reason his quilt smells different to how he’s used to is that he isn’t in his bed. He’s in his new dormitory, in Ravenclaw Tower, in <em>Hogwarts</em>.</p>
<p>After that, staying in bed is no longer an option.</p>
<p>As he dresses and tucks his wand into his pocket, he can’t control the grin that spreads across his face. While he brushes his hair, his reflection beams back at him. When he bounds down the stairs into the common room, the few students already up – it’s barely past six, so there aren’t many – blink at him in hazy disbelief, though Harry thinks he sees one bite back something of a knowing smile. Harry ignores them all, taking a moment to stare around at the common room before continuing on to descend the stairs beyond. He has a castle to explore.</p>
<p>By the time seven rolls around, he’s pleased to have found the Transfiguration, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts classrooms, and has, to his utter delight, earned ten house points from a stuttering professor in a turban for ‘dedication to preparation’. The praise only widens his beam, and when he gets down to the Great Hall to spot Dudley and Hermione hanging around outside, his happiness rises further. Really, he thinks he might explode at this point.</p>
<p>“How did you sleep?” Hermione asks when he arrives, smiling at his enthusiastic nod.</p>
<p>“Great!” he tells her, leaning in to offer Dudley a quick hug and batting away the hand that reaches out in an attempt to mess up his hair. “Really good, thanks – you? Is everything okay?”</p>
<p>“It was nice,” Hermione assures him. “The common room’s incredible – all the <em>books</em> – and Draco was telling me about the political system we have. It sounds so <em>fascinating</em>. I’m not sure everyone likes me – but no one’s been horrible, and I’ve the time to win them all over.”</p>
<p>Pleased to hear that she’s doing alright – and that she’s making her willingness to learn their ways clear to her new housemates – Harry turns to Dudley.</p>
<p>“Hufflepuff’s incredible,” his cousin tells him happily. “We’re right near the kitchens, and everyone’s so nice and friendly. I’ve been talking to a few people who’d like to get involved in that non-magical study group as well.”</p>
<p>“I forgot about that,” Harry admits freely, glancing through the open doors next to them to get a glimpse of his house’s table. “I think quite a few people in Ravenclaw would probably be interested, though. I’ll talk to them at breakfast if I get a chance.”</p>
<p>“I think I’ll be the only Slytherin,” Hermione points out, smiling as she shrugs. “I might see if any of them are interested in learning it – if I can spin it to be useful for something magical.”</p>
<p><em>She learns quickly</em>, Harry thinks, admiration rising.</p>
<p>“Finances,” he points out, earning a nod and a small grin from Hermione in response as she bounces on her toes, apparently excited by the very prospect of convincing her housemates to join in. “And in later years, Arithmancy is a subject you can take, and that also uses maths. Then science is just kind of… generally useful.”</p>
<p>“I’ll give it a go,” she agrees, then peers into the Great Hall. “We should probably go and have breakfast now – we’ve still got to get ready for whatever classes we have today – but shall we meet here again at lunch?”</p>
<p>“Sounds good,” Harry tells her, Dudley murmuring a confirmation.</p>
<p>Over breakfast, Harry does indeed get time to talk to his housemates about the study group idea, and honestly, he shouldn’t be so surprised that every single one of them seems keen, the purebloods included. In Ravenclaw, it’s hardly going to be rare for the students to have a thirst for knowledge besides what’s entirely necessary, is it?</p>
<p>“I’d love to get involved with something like that!” Mandy enthuses, beaming. “That’s a great idea – did you say people from the other houses would be doing it too?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Harry confirms. “Definitely from Hufflepuff and Slytherin – but I don’t know anyone from Gryffindor, so I guess we’ll have to see about them.”</p>
<p>Anthony nods eagerly, lifting his fork to point at Harry as he swallows down the food in his mouth.</p>
<p>“You know what else will be good? All the other years don’t like the other houses very much – they have loads of arguments. We won’t ever have to worry about that!”</p>
<p>Satisfied, Harry resolves to tell Dudley and Hermione that they’ve got another nine interested at lunch. Before that, though, he has lessons, and first up is Charms. Professor Flitwick turns out to be a very short man, and Harry wonders distantly, as he fights the usual urge to roll his eyes at Professor Flitwick’s response to his name, if the height is due to goblin heritage or simply dwarfism. It doesn’t matter, of course; it certainly doesn’t detract from how brilliant a teacher he is, beaming at Harry’s stuttering, briefly-maintained ‘<em>Lumos</em>’ and offering points for Harry and everyone else who succeeds, alongside gentle encouragement for the rest. By the end of the class, Harry’s beam is back – having slipped due to nerves beforehand – and after saying a cheery ‘goodbye’ to Hermione, he all but skips down to Potions alongside Lisa and Oliver, happy to see Dudley already waiting outside when he arrives.</p>
<p>Really, he’s a little nervous about this class, because Uncle Salazar has warned him that Professor Snape never exactly got along with his father, but Aunt Petunia <em>did</em> say that the professor used to be his mother’s best friend, so maybe, it will be alright. He just has to be on his best behaviour, and everything should go smoothly.</p>
<p>By the time he’s sat down next to Dudley in the classroom, Harry has nervously recited everything that Uncle Salazar has ever taught them about potion-making, and is well into everything else that he’s read from his textbooks, just in case – along with everything else that Uncle Salazar has told him about Severus Snape, the youngest Potions Master ever and victim of many cruel pranks by Harry’s father and his friends. Harry looks very much like his father, he knows. A lot of people comment on it.</p>
<p>Professor Snape starts the lesson by taking a register, pausing to curl his lip in a sneer when he reaches Harry’s name, then continues onwards; Harry fights the urge to sink in his seat, instead staying straight back and staring ahead at the professor, determined to prove himself as quickly as possible. In a way, the man reminds him of Professor McGonagall, with how easily he seems to control the classroom, but somehow, even though Professor McGonagall hadn’t seemed very friendly last night, Professor Snape manages to make her seem welcoming, his expression disdainful and his eyes cold.</p>
<p>“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he announces when all names have been called and all students have answered, dark eyes sweeping over the room and settling longer than is really comfortable on Harry before moving onwards. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”</p>
<p>There’s a bitterness to his words, and it strikes Harry suddenly that, with as much passion as he seems to have for the subject – and the expertise that he’s renowned for – it must be difficult to maintain the patience needed to deal with struggling students. Really, though, that’s why someone like Professor Snape would be better off burying himself in research rather than trying to deal with a classroom full of – admittedly sometimes troublesome – children.</p>
<p>“Potter!” he snaps out of nowhere, and Harry cannot help but jump. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”</p>
<p>Harry racks his brain desperately. He knows the answer, he’s sure he does. It was right in the introduction to his textbook – a very famous potion, and if he could just remember its name… He can recall being very fascinated by it, to the point where he went to Uncle Salazar and begged to know more; the name itself was a contradiction, he’s sure of it, and he remembers a ‘D’…</p>
<p>“Death…” he squints, trying to remember it, and speaking the one word he knows aloud seems to set off the memory at once. “The Draught of Living Death, I think, Sir.”</p>
<p>Professor Snape stares at him in silence, utterly expressionless.</p>
<p>“Very well,” the man declares after a moment, turning to another area of the classroom, and Harry relaxes, blowing out a quiet breath. “Turpin, if I asked you to find me a bezoar, where would you look?”</p>
<p>“The stomach of a goat, Sir?” she replies, prompt but audibly uncertain; Harry sees her, too, slump in relief when Professor Snape turns elsewhere.</p>
<p>“Macmillan, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”</p>
<p>For several seconds, Macmillan – Ernie, Harry thinks his first name might be – freezes, then the boy deflates a little and shakes his head.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Sir,” he mutters. “I don’t know, Sir.”</p>
<p>“Potter!” Snape announces at once, wheeling back around to face Harry. “Would you like to play the hero and rescue Mr Macmillan? What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”</p>
<p>Harry draws in a deep breath, prays that he’s right, and looks up to meet Professor Snape’s eyes, taking care not to look too confident in case that comes across as arrogance.</p>
<p>“They’re the same plant, Sir.”</p>
<p>It must be correct, because Professor Snape looks around the classroom and arches an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Well?” he demands. “Copy it down.”</p>
<p>There’s a flurry of movement as everyone reaches for their quills and parchment, and Harry does the same, making quick notes so that hopefully, the information will come a little easier if he ever needs it again.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, over the rest of the lesson, Professor Snape seems less than fond of him, sneering over his potion and critiquing every little problem that he can find, until Harry’s nerves are frayed and he feels as if he’s on the verge of snapping. He can’t work like this, he knows – not in the long term, and certainly not if he wants to get a good Potions education out of his time here.</p>
<p>So it is that, at the end of the lesson, he waves Dudley on ahead and hovers behind, equipment packed away quickly and neatly before he dares approach Professor Snape’s desk.</p>
<p>“Sir?” he asks hesitantly, and finds himself faced with the worst sneer yet, almost losing his nerve as he struggles against the urge to quail beneath him. “I don’t want to waste your time, but –”</p>
<p>“Then don’t,” Professor Snape tells him flatly.</p>
<p>“I feel it’s best I do,” Harry replies, making sure to keep his voice firm; he wants to be polite, but he refuses to be cowed. “I want to learn while I’m here, Sir, so if I’ve done anything to displease you, then please could I have another chance to –”</p>
<p>“You have done nothing more or less than average,” Professor Snape returns, without even looking up from his work. “You are nothing special, Potter, is that understood?”</p>
<p>“I know, Sir,” Harry assures, a little desperate now. “If – If it’s about my father, then I understand – he was horrible at school, I’ve heard, but I won’t be like him, I promise –”</p>
<p>The look Professor Snape fixes him with has him falling silent at once, regretting ever staying here. He’s going to get detention. He’s going to lose house points. He’s going to be kicked out of Hogwarts already, because Professor Snape is undoubtedly <em>furious</em> with him.</p>
<p>“Mr Potter, why are you wasting my precious time with your ramblings?” Professor Snape asks, soft and silky and oh-so-deadly.</p>
<p>At this point, as much as he wants to apologise and high-tail it out of there, Harry can only hold his ground.</p>
<p>“Because I want to learn as much about potion-making as I can, Sir,” he replies firmly, dropping his gaze for a second in case Professor Snape finds eye-contact to be disrespectful, but then has to look up again to check if the professor is showing any reaction – he isn’t. “And for that, I need to be sure that I haven’t crossed my teacher on my very first day. And also, because you deserve an apology for my father –”</p>
<p>“Your father,” Professor Snape interrupts him, “Was a terrible person, Mr Potter, do you understand me?”</p>
<p>That hurts to hear, and Harry’s not sure he agrees, although there’s no denying that his father treated Professor Snape horribly, from everything that he’s heard.</p>
<p>“Yes, Sir,” he whispers all the same, when he’s managed to swallow down the lump in his throat.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Professor Snape sits back to take him in, glittering black orbs dancing over his face. “Your father’s actions are not yours to concern yourself with, Mr Potter. You have done nothing to displease me. Prove, however, that you are truly interested in the study of potion-making, and we shall see what will happen.”</p>
<p>Hardly daring to believe his luck, Harry manages a stilted nod, whispering his gratitude as he backs away to his bag. He’s still shaking when he bolts from the classroom.</p>
<p>“All good?” Dudley asks him quietly, pushing away from the wall outside to fall into step beside him, and, barely daring to breathe, Harry offers a shaky smile instead of words, nodding and waiting until they’re a good way down the corridor to speak.</p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure we actually are,” he tells his cousin then, glancing around the corridor quickly before continuing. “I think… I think it’s going to be all good in Potions.”</p>
<p>When they join Hermione for lunch, she offers them a wide smile and, without any delay, sucks in a breath to inform them,</p>
<p>“Draco wants to join the study group. Pansy’s curious as well – and so are a few others. I think Vincent’s keener than he wants to let on.”</p>
<p>Harry grins at her.</p>
<p>“That’s great!” he tells her. “Can you believe it, Dud? You actually <em>do</em> have good ideas sometimes!”</p>
<p>Dudley shoves him with an exasperated eye-roll, but doesn’t bother to protest aloud as Harry continues.</p>
<p>“That reminds me – everyone in Ravenclaw wants to join in. So really, we just need to see about Gryffindor, now.”</p>
<p>Nodding happily, Hermione steps out of the way of a group of older Slytherin students, and Harry is pleased to see that no one outright glares at her. Alright, there are a few <em>off</em> glances shot in her direction, but nothing openly hostile, and that’s the most that could be expected on the first day – or is this the second day? Does yesterday count? Does it matter?</p>
<p>Probably not, he settles on as he heads for his own housemates in the Great Hall and watches Hermione settle herself next to Gregory just one table over, Dudley greeting the boy who’d been unable to answer Professor Snape’s question – Macmillan, Harry remembers, but the first name, which he’s sure he had earlier, evades him – with similar ease. Both of them look comfortable, and that’s what really matters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The rest of his classes are much less stressful than Potions. Herbology is the first lesson that they have with the Gryffindors, and Harry finds himself on a bench with the strangely nervous Heir Longbottom – or Neville, as he asks to be called once formal greetings have been exchanged – along with Michael and Padma. Neville seems interested in the study group Harry mentions, especially when Harry suggests that, maybe, they could provide support for each other in their magical studies as well, and by the time they’re working on fertilising the harmless plants of Greenhouse One with dragon dung, Neville has warmed up to them significantly. On the way back up to the castle, they’re joined by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, both of whom agree to give the study group a go, to Harry’s delight.</p>
<p>Defence Against the Dark Arts is… interesting, to say the least. Harry wouldn’t say that it’s the most informative of classes, though Professor Quirrell has some good stories to tell, when Harry can summon the effort to decipher the stuttered words. Unfortunately, he’s not<em> entirely</em> sure how believable they are, given the professor’s jumpy nature, and he does have a tendency to develop a headache in that particular classroom.</p>
<p>Still, Professor Quirrell is nice enough, as is Professor Sinistra – if somewhat unsympathetic when they stagger, yawning, up to the Astronomy Tower to stare blearily up at the night sky through eyelids which droop shut every minute or so. Harry’s fairly sure that only Terry’s elbow keeps him awake through most of the lesson; his new housemate seems like something of a night-owl, reading books late into the evening anyway, so Harry isn’t exactly surprised that he seems to be the only one coping.</p>
<p>Not so much <em>nice</em>, but certainly fair, is Professor McGonagall, and Transfiguration is a very interesting subject; Harry is disappointed that his match is only slightly pointier by the end of the lesson, but at least no one gets further than him. He’d even say the wood was starting to get a <em>little</em> bit shiny, if asked.</p>
<p>By the time he first attends his first History of Magic lesson, it is the only subject he has yet to experience. From the last two years, learning politics and history with Uncle Salazar, Harry is fairly sure that he’ll enjoy it, but he’s sorely disappointed. Professor Binns, a <em>ghost </em>of all things, drones on and on in a monotonous voice, and if Harry thought that he’d at least get the content of the course right, then Professor Binns lets him down on that front, too, mixing up several key figures from the last couple of centuries. Next to him, Harry is aware of Draco practically vibrating with agitation, clearly furious with this blatant disrespect of the Dark; it practically screams of disregard for tradition and heritage, and Harry can imagine Uncle Salazar pitching an absolute fit on reading the letter that Harry and Dudley write home together at the end of the first week, which details the utter nightmare that the class is.</p>
<p>“Well, we’ll teach each other our history, then,” Draco seethes as they flee the room, Harry nodding in agreement as Hermione scrubs her eyes in frustration. “And we’ll do it <em>properly</em> – that study group will have to be for more than just non-magical education.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Harry assures him with a sigh. “I’ve already suggested to Heir Longbottom – Neville – that we support each other in our magical education as well.”</p>
<p>Apparently too angry to manage any further speech, Draco only nods jerkily, lips pressed into a single white line.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand – why not just… get rid of him?” Hermione murmurs beside them, and Harry jolts a little with the realisation that of course she wouldn’t have made the connection.</p>
<p>“You remember what I’ve taught you about the Dark and the Light?” Draco prompts her, then shoots Harry an apologetic glance. “And the Grey, of course. Sorry, Harry. Well, Dumbledore is the Light Lord – History of Magic is really…”</p>
<p>“It’s politics,” Hermione fills in blankly, apparently appalled. “History of Magic is about learning our past, and because that’s more of a Dark thing…”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Draco nods, triumphant. “I’d heard it was bad, but this… This is on another level. I’ll write to my father – he’s on the Board of Governors. There might be something he can do.”</p>
<p>“Good idea,” Harry tells him. “And in the meantime, we’ll fill in the gaps in our knowledge ourselves.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the afternoon of their first full Sunday at Hogwarts, the first meeting of their study group takes place, in a larger than normal classroom which Sue and Lisa managed to beg from Professor Flitwick – and fortunately, too, because Harry finds himself gaping around at the entire year, all gathered in one place for the first time since the Sorting exactly one week ago.</p>
<p>“So, we were thinking,” Harry finds himself announcing, because apparently, himself, Hermione and Dudley have become the unofficial leaders of the group, and neither Hermione nor Dudley want to speak, “Because we’re obviously going to want help with current schoolwork, and if we aren’t careful, we’ll end up with some major gaps in our knowledge of our history, this should be a study group for both magical and non-magical education. So, just come along with what you want to do, or if there’s nothing you want to do one particular week, it would be great if you’d still come along, because someone else might want your help, or you could just do some homework. I’m going to do some maths, though, so if anyone wants to do that with me…?”</p>
<p>At first, it’s awkward, because remembering everyone’s names is difficult enough when you don’t have schoolwork to focus on as well, but somehow, the struggle of making it work seems to bring everyone together as well, and by the time Harry heads back to Ravenclaw Tower, his cheeks are stretched wide with the same beam he wore seven days beforehand.</p>
<p>“Flying lessons start on Thursday,” Terry reads aloud the next morning. “We’ll be with Hufflepuff, by the looks of it. Don’t worry – it’s nothing scary. They won’t push you out of your comfort zone, and the brooms have safety charms anyway. It’s just like when you learn to swim.”</p>
<p>The words are addressed to Sue, who stares at the board with more than a little trepidation but seems to relax ever so slightly with Terry’s words.</p>
<p>“We’ll be right there with you,” Padma assures her. “I promise.”</p>
<p>Luckily, flying lessons go smoothly enough. Harry has never had <em>much</em> chance to fly, what with living in a muggle neighbourhood, but he enjoyed it whenever Uncle Salazar took them out to an isolated field and set up the necessary muggle-deterrents. At Hogwarts, with his newer friends around as well as Dudley, it’s certainly no different, and the view of the ground from astride a broom is utterly incredible. Alright, so maybe he takes the opportunity to show off a little, pulling out a few loops and dives whenever he thinks he’d get away with it, but he’s careful and never does anything that would have had Uncle Salazar reprimanding him later.</p>
<p>“Next year, you should try out for the Quidditch team!” Lisa declares at the end of the lesson, eyes sparkling as she watches him, and he can only blink cluelessly for a moment. “You’d make an <em>incredible</em> Seeker or something – though obviously, Cho’s also amazing. Maybe you could be reserve?”</p>
<p>Harry snorts, but promises to consider it, wondering as she wanders off whether he should suggest that Dudley think about trying out for beater; he has the power for it, after all. It’s something to consider, and if they decide that they’re going to go for it, then the earlier they do so, the better; it gives them plenty of time to switch up their Strength and Conditioning, maybe add in some core exercise, practice over the holidays…</p>
<p>He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice where he’s going until he walks right into someone – that someone turning out to be Neville, looking decidedly unhappy with his arm in a sling.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I wasn’t looking!” Harry rushes out, steadying the other boy quickly, and Neville smiles at him, apparently more pleased to see him than bothered about the collision, but his companion takes exception to it.</p>
<p>“Oi, watch where you’re going – Harry!” the ginger breaks off his reprimand to exclaim, beaming at Harry like they’re good friends, but Harry can say quite certainly that they’ve never spoken before.</p>
<p>Indeed, it takes him a moment to place the red hair, and really, it’s only because of such a distinctive tell that he even works out the boy’s family.</p>
<p>“Mr Weasley,” he greets, holding out a hand for the boy – whose first name he has no clue of – to shake.</p>
<p>“What?” Weasley stares at his hand, then, to Harry’s surprise and significant offense, snorts and waves it away; a muggleborn, he’d understand, but a pureblood rejecting him like this is horribly impolite. “Nah, no need to bother with that load of rubbish, mate.”</p>
<p>Now, Harry knows that not all purebloods choose to be so formal when they don’t have to, but to <em>reject</em> someone’s formal greeting when it’s already been offered is quite the insult.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry?” he asks coolly, raising an eyebrow as he lowers his hand.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about all that,” Weasley tells him with the air of someone who thinks he’s imparting much-needed education onto another. “That’s just for those stuffy Slytherin types – the posh snobs and all. Tell you what, you stick with me and I’ll help you out, mate.”</p>
<p>“<em>I</em> do that sometimes,” Neville mutters, apparently hurt; Harry doesn’t blame him.</p>
<p>Drawing himself up to his full height, Harry presses his lips in the curtest of polite smiles and is about to speak when a shadow falls over all of them.</p>
<p>“What is going on here, Mr Potter?” Professor Snape asks silkily, and while Harry thinks that they’re getting along far better now than they were at the start, he can’t tell if the Potions Master is looking to blame him or support him.</p>
<p>Best to tell the truth either way.</p>
<p>“Mr Weasley has insulted myself, Neville and Dudley, Sir – and our heritage as well.”</p>
<p>“What?” Weasley bursts out at once, as Professor Snape’s eyebrows inch upwards and his lip curls in the beginnings of a cold sneer. “I didn’t! I was just trying to help – don’t lie, you –”</p>
<p>“Mr Weasley,” Professor Snape interrupts, cold and so disdainful that Harry almost feels pity for the ginger, “Detention. My office, tonight at seven. And ten points from Gryffindor. Now be on your way.”</p>
<p>When Weasley looks about to protest, Professor Snape’s glare strengthens, until the boy trudges off without another word.</p>
<p>“Mr Potter,” Professor Snape begins, and Harry, having begun to slump with relief and just a little bit of satisfaction, straightens at once, “Ten points to Ravenclaw for talking to a professor instead of escalating the conflict yourself.”</p>
<p>With that, the man is gone, leaving Harry to reel in shock and wonder when, exactly, Professor Snape started to not only <em>tolerate</em> him – a far higher level of regard than he seems to hold for most non-Slytherin students – but even, just maybe, purposefully <em>help</em> him.</p>
<p>“You know,” Neville whispers, eyes wide as he stares at Harry in awe. “I think he <em>likes</em> you.”</p>
<p>“He only likes his Slytherins,” Harry returns automatically, but maybe – <em>just maybe</em> – Neville’s right; Dudley certainly seems in agreement, if his grin is anything to go by. “What happened to your arm, anyway? It looks pretty banged up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Within a month, Harry has settled down easily into a routine of going to class and study group sessions, working on homework for half an hour each weeknight – more at the weekends and when he needs to stay up for an Astronomy lesson – and working out with Dudley. The lakeshore makes a great running course every Saturday morning, with beautiful scenery despite the frigid air that settles over the rolling grounds, winter drawing ever closer. On Saturday afternoons, he goes flying with anyone else who wants to come, then heads back in to practice his spell-work; on Sunday morning, he sits down with Dudley to write to Uncle Salazar, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. His classes are going well, he thinks, and despite his early troubles, he finds that he particularly enjoys Potions and Transfiguration.</p>
<p>The study group, too, is running smoothly. There are a few noticeable absences – well, just the one, really, in the form of Ronald Weasley. Most of the students pop in and out at various times over their ‘meeting time’, some sitting around to catch up with those whom they don’t often see at other times while working through homework together, others setting up informal partnerships to tutor one another in weaker subjects, and Harry even finds himself and Hermione sitting down to offer some of the pureblood students lessons in non-magical subjects. It’s very enjoyable all round, to tell the truth, particularly once the house elves cotton on and start to send up snacks, and a few of the teachers start to pop by occasionally to see if anyone needs support that another student can’t provide.</p>
<p>Dumbledore doesn’t attempt to bother him or Dudley once, though Harry often feels the man’s eyes on him, and it seems as though, whenever he looks up at the staff table, he always catches Dumbledore watching him, apparently without shame. It makes his skin crawl a little, but he ignores it for the most part, other than to bring it up in a letter to Uncle Salazar.</p>
<p>And so school rolls on. In the background, Uncle Salazar keeps him updated on all the goings-on of the political sphere, explaining what he’s doing and why, drip-feeding Harry the information he’ll one day need as Lord Potter in the process. As exhausting as it is, and as much as Harry envies Dudley for being able to back out, he’s grateful for his uncle teaching him such essential things – and really, any chance to learn something new is not to be turned down.</p>
<p>It’s almost two months in when, at the end of a Potions class that Harry particularly enjoyed, Professor Snape calls him back to speak for a moment. Nervous, Harry fiddles with the strap of his bag and waits for the professor to speak, wondering what he could possibly have done wrong.</p>
<p>“Mr Potter,” Professor Snape starts slowly, and then, to Harry’s utter shock, he sits down on the edge of his desk to regard Harry more closely, apparently uncaring about his informal position. “I have been watching your progress in my class over the last two months and, though I was not willing to admit it at first, it has not escaped my notice that you have potential. This is not an opportunity I <em>ever</em> offer lightly – though do not think yourself the first, by any means.”</p>
<p>This is starting to sound… good? Vaguely, Harry remembers that first one-on-one discussion with Professor Snape, recalling the man’s comment on Harry needing to prove his passion for potion-making, and for the first time, sees a whole new meaning to it.</p>
<p>“Every Monday evening from eight o’clock, I am offering to spend an hour of my time teaching you more depth than I would dare to go into with any class, filled to the brim with utter morons as they are. I will only make this offer once, and if you turn it down, this will be the end of the matter. If you accept, then it will be conditional on your performance in regular classes being absolutely perfect. I will reserve the right to stop the sessions at any time – and you may do the same, with the knowledge that, unless your excuse is fool-proof, the first session you miss will be your last. Is that understood?”</p>
<p>Blankly, Harry nods. Does Professor Snape want an answer now? Does he expect Harry to make this decision in an instant?</p>
<p>“Good,” Professor Snape tells him, standing. “Make your decision, Mr Potter, and I will have your answer at eight o’clock on Monday, with your presence or absence outside the door to this classroom. If you choose to attend, you will need your cauldron, your wand, dragon-hide gloves and no other equipment besides. Be on your way, now.”</p>
<p>Speechless, Harry turns to leave, mind already awhirl with everything that Professor Snape has said and what this could mean for him – and his future.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Sir,” he manages to choke out in the doorway of the classroom, then flees before he can say anything that might make Professor Snape withdraw his offer.</p>
<p>The first thing he does, before even going to find Dudley or getting lunch, is write to Uncle Salazar. If anyone will have good advice on whether or not he should take this opportunity – and honestly, he thinks he should – then it will be his uncle. He’s liked Potions since Uncle Salazar first introduced them to the art, and the thought of being able to explore it further appeals to every fibre of his being, but does he really want to commit himself like this? Yes, he could back out, but will he be missing out on anything if he does so?</p>
<p>He’s halfway through writing his letter when he realises that, actually, what he needs is a face-to-face discussion, and now. Turning for Ravenclaw Tower, he hurries up to the common room and then to his dormitory, retrieving his mirror and hurrying back down, out to the grounds where he won’t be overheard.</p>
<p>“Salazar Potter,” he announces once he’s sure that there’s no one else around to see him, and in seconds, his uncle is staring right back at him, brow creased with concern.</p>
<p>“Harry?” the man asks, eyes flitting over Harry’s face – an action identifiable even through the slight discordance that the mirror creates within it. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Nothing’s… <em>wrong</em>, so much,” Harry admits, lifting his thumb to bite at it uncertainly. “I’ve been… Professor Snape has offered me an opportunity. He has said that he’ll teach me, one-on-one, for an extra hour on Monday evenings – more depth and detail, going into things he can’t cover with a class of varying ability. He says I have potential.”</p>
<p>“Professor Snape?” Uncle Salazar blinks. “Says a <em>Potter</em> has potential? Well done, Harry – I always knew you had a gift in Potions, but to impress Severus Snape is something special, never mind as James’ son. Is there a reason you don’t want to take him up on it?”</p>
<p>“Not really,” Harry confesses slowly. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted to get your advice on it. I’d – I’d really like to. And we do get on quite well, I think, for his standards. But what if I’m committing myself to something I shouldn’t be, or I lose out on something else?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar hums quietly in thought.</p>
<p>“You can back out at any time if you desperately want to?” he checks, and Harry nods. “It’s an hour a week? And your main concern is that, if you don’t choose to miss out on something you clearly want to do, you <em>may</em> miss out on something else which is hardly guaranteed to come along at all?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Harry sighs, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take him up on it, then?”</p>
<p>Despite his exasperation, he can’t deny his gratitude; Uncle Salazar just has a way of phrasing things to help him realise when his worries are utterly unfounded, and it’s the reason why Harry will always choose him as the best person to go to for advice.</p>
<p>“I think that would be wise,” Uncle Salazar agrees with a smile. “Again, Harry, well done. Now, how’s Hogwarts? Obviously, I’ve read all of your letters, and I have a few choice words about <em>one</em> particular subject, but the study group was a wonderful idea of Dudley’s – and you seem to be managing it masterfully. How is it all going? Are you enjoying yourself?”</p>
<p>With a deep breath, Harry collects his thoughts and begins to speak.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I watched Jesus Christ Superstar last weekend while it was out, and I have to say, I was shook. Admittedly, I ended up watching it again the next day, and if I could have, I'd probably have watched it again on Monday...</p>
<p>Beyond that, I hope you are all well. If you have any theories/ideas that you wish to share, I love hearing them, as much as I will avoid confirming or denying them. If you have any questions, please do ask, and I may or may not answer depending on how relevant such answers might be to the fic itself. </p>
<p>I also want to clarify (and possibly I have already, though I cannot remember) that Harry is not going to be miles ahead of his classmates instantly, and nor is he going to have a love interest at the age of eleven or twelve. He will not always make the right decisions, he will often defer to adults, and for some time, he will lean on those adults closest to him. This will gradually change, and as he grows older, I will begin to introduce more politics and reveal aspects of the world that as an eleven-year-old, he would not necessarily pick up on. Additionally, the plots of each fic will grow gradually further apart from canon and timings will often be different to what you might expect. Again - any questions, feel free to ask, and I will endeavour to answer without giving too much away.</p>
<p>Final note from me: I was thinking of writing a different fic after I have finished this (so admittedly a long while away, though I am on Harry's third year now...), given that I have read several reincarnation fics in which Salazar Slytherin finds himself reincarnated with a female body and is just... fine with it? I mean, sure, that's fair enough, but I'd quite like to try introducing a trans perspective to that particular idea, and I just wondered what people's thoughts would be or if there's anything similar already out there? If I get far enough ahead with this current series, I might start writing the above before finishing this, but for now, I'm just fishing for general opinion. </p>
<p>Thanks for taking the time to read all of the above, and I hope you enjoy reading all of the below!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Great Hall looks absolutely, undeniably incredible. Harry can’t decide where to look first: at the clouds of bats, swooping low and thick over the table; the dancing lights that flicker between the gaps of exquisite carvings in pumpkins; the size of the pumpkins themselves, from some which Harry could probably fit in one hand to others which he thinks might be bigger than <em>him</em>; the vast array of puddings and sweets, stretching across each of the four tables and making Harry’s mouth water as he slowly lowers himself to sit alongside Terry?</p>
<p>“This is <em>amazing</em>,” Terry breathes, Harry unable to find the words for any response besides a nod. “You know, I was disappointed that we can’t go trick-or-treating, but this is <em>so</em> much better…”</p>
<p>Really, Harry would still rather be celebrating Samhain, sitting in solemn silence around a solitary candle with the rest of his family to honour his parents, Uncle Salazar’s other long-lost family, and every other loved one who’s had their time along the way. The little ritual isn’t something he’s been doing for many years – just the two, in fact – but it feels so important to him anyway, to the point where he and Dudley have arranged to meet at the end of the feast with their friends and complete it themselves; Draco seems quite keen to introduce Hermione to it as well.</p>
<p>The feast has barely started, Harry helping himself to everything he can get – he’s absolutely <em>ravenous</em> after the makeshift gym session completed two hours ago with Dudley – when Professor Quirrell comes stumbling in, white as a sheet and shaking all over.</p>
<p>“T – Troll,” he stutters, words carrying across the entire hall to silence all chatter instantly. “I – In the D – Dungeons. I thought y – you ought t – to know…”</p>
<p>Blankly, Harry stares as the man sinks to the floor in a dead faint, slumping against the base of the head table just in front of Dumbledore. A <em>troll</em>? In <em>Hogwarts</em>?</p>
<p>What in Merlin’s name…? Why? <em>How</em>?</p>
<p>Caught up in his own shock and incredulity, Harry barely notices the Great Hall erupting until Dumbledore silences it all with a serious of firecrackers.</p>
<p>“Prefects!” he announces, his words seeming to echo off the walls of the Great Hall. “Lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!”</p>
<p>Harry’s half-way out of his seat when he looks across the hall to meet Hermione’s gaze and catches sight of her confusion and worry. But… Surely Dumbledore wouldn’t…</p>
<p>“The Slytherin Dormitories are <em>in</em> the dungeons!” he hisses to Terry and the rest of their dormmates, watching their eyes widen even as he turns back to shake his head frantically at Hermione.</p>
<p>Luckily, the rest of Slytherin House seems to have come to the same realisation, hovering in uncertainty as they share glances and muttered, indignant conversations.</p>
<p>“How do we even know it’s still <em>in</em> the Dungeons?” Lisa adds, obviously miffed. “It could have moved – it could be right outside, for all we know.”</p>
<p>None of the teachers seem to have realised the problem, but as Professor Snape comes sweeping past, Harry sees his chance.</p>
<p>“Sir!” he calls, reaching out an arm to catch the man’s attention, and tries not to quail beneath his glare before Professor Snape realises that it’s him and relents just a fraction. “The Slytherin Dormitories are in the Dungeons. Surely Dum – Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t just send…?”</p>
<p>Professor Snape’s eyes flash with realisation and, jaw tightening with anger, he sends up a firecracker of his own.</p>
<p>“Slytherin House,” he announces coldly, “Stay <em>right</em> where you are. You will stay here until it is safe.”</p>
<p>Hermione slumps visibly in relief, dropping back into her seat, and Harry offers her a nod of reassurance, which she returns with a grateful smile. Really, how stupid can Dumbledore be, completely disregarding the safety of an entire house? It’s such a monumental mistake that Harry can’t help but wonder if the real cause of the issue is not that it slipped his mind, but that he wouldn’t have minded them running into some trouble anyway.</p>
<p>Certainly, if looks could kill, Professor Snape’s glower would have the old goat six feet under already.</p>
<p>“I think it’s best that Ravenclaw House does the same!” Professor Flitwick squeaks, nodding. “It will be better to stay here than to make the trip – the troll could move, after all.”</p>
<p>“Gryffindor, the same,” Professor McGonagall sighs, and Professor Sprout appears to weigh up her options before agreeing.</p>
<p><em>Great</em>. So how are they going to get their Samhain ritual done now?</p>
<p>Across the hall, he meets Dudley’s eyes and gets a forlorn shrug from his cousin, likely thinking the same thing as he is. The night won’t feel right without it, never mind the rest of the year.</p>
<p>“Harry!” Hermione hisses, suddenly at his side, and Harry glances away from Dudley to her, noticing as he does so that a lot of the students are mingling as the professors discuss their plan of action. “Draco has an idea. Come on – we’re going to do it here.”</p>
<p>Blinking, Harry follows her over to Draco, beckoning Dudley across as well, and watches as Vincent and Gregory push the now-vacated benches aside to make room on the floor, Draco selecting a candle from the table to set down in the middle of the space they’ve cleared. Hermione hovers, clearly unsure of what to do, so Harry leads her over to sit down, settling beside her and smiling when Dudley drops down on his other side.</p>
<p>“When we have a full circle, we’ll go round and speak the names of any we wish to remember. If we don’t have any names, we simply spread our hand like so,” he pauses to demonstrate, releasing his hands from their clasped position in his lap to spread them out, palms up, before settling them back in place, “And the next person will go.”</p>
<p>Looking around at Draco, Vincent, Gregory, Pansy, Blaise and, surprisingly, Neville, Harry cocks his head.</p>
<p>“Who’s going to lead?” he asks, and sighs when six expectant gazes land on him, Dudley’s following a moment later. “Alright. Don’t worry, Hermione, that’s all you have to do, and I’ll make it known when we’re done. Everyone, sit down…”</p>
<p>Shuffling back to make a little more room, he ignores everyone watching them, and as soon as everyone is settles, he clears his throat and fixes his eyes on the flame, pleased to see Hermione copying the rest of them to do the same.</p>
<p>“James Potter,” he announces, the familiarity of the name uttered in this particular ritual already bringing a light sheen of tears to his eyes. “Lily Potter.”</p>
<p>Bowing his head briefly, he spreads his hands to show that he’s done. Dudley copies the action a moment later, when Harry is looking at the flame once more, and around the circle it goes, some offering names while others simply spread their hands until finally, on his right, Hermione spreads her hands. With a solemn nod, Harry double-checks that he’s remembering the words right – to be truthful, they’re branded into his brain even after so few as two experiences of this ritual with Uncle Salazar, but he wants this to be perfect – and draws in a deep breath.</p>
<p>“We are here tonight to honour our dead,” he tells his friends, gaze still fixed on the candle as it starts to flicker, forming shapes that look like bodies and faces and seem oh-so familiar. “We are here tonight to welcome them home. We are here tonight to ease their passing, and to ask that they, in turn, ease our living. Let it so be said.”</p>
<p>“<em>Let it so be said</em>,” the group rumbles, and for another minute, they sit in silence, Harry counting through the seconds in his head as the candle flame grows, flickering with clearer faces, now – faces Harry can recognise, with smiles and kind words on their lips, blessings for the next year offered forth without sound as Harry sits and watches.</p>
<p>Finally, the minute is up, and Harry forces himself to bow his head once more, wondering distantly how Uncle Salazar always found the self-control to tear his gaze from all the faces he must see in the flame, then clears his throat of the lump which has formed in it.</p>
<p>“Rise,” he tells them all hoarsely; the ritual is done.</p>
<p>It’s only once the candle has been placed safely back on the table and Harry has regathered his composure that he takes note of the students – mostly muggleborns – watching them, and the groups scattered across the floor conducting the same ritual in small circles. Most of the teachers are gone, likely to fight the troll, but Professor Sinistra and Professor Quirrell both nod approvingly at their group, picking their way carefully between circles towards them.</p>
<p>“Ten points for each of you for ingenuity and a well-performed ritual,” Professor Sinistra tells them. “And another ten to you, Mr Potter, for taking such an eloquent lead.”</p>
<p>Harry doesn’t feel ready to summon a smile yet, with his parents still so fresh in his mind, their love for him so clear, but he does nod in gratitude before turning to cock his head in Hermione’s direction.</p>
<p>“So how did you find it?” he asks her softly, surprised to find her blinking back tears of her own.</p>
<p>Apparently struggling for words, she merely offers a nod and a shaky smile at first, before blowing out a breath and nodding again.</p>
<p>“It was beautiful,” she whispers. “Really beautiful.”</p>
<p>Harry beams at that, seeing the rest of their companions react similarly as the sorrow melts from them. Introducing someone to a ritual is a special thing, Uncle Salazar told him on their first Samhain together, particularly among Dark families, and Harry imagines he’s far from the only one feeling a certain buzz of pride and happiness, particularly with Hermione’s reaction.</p>
<p>“That’s great,” he tells her sincerely, reaching out to pull her into a swift embrace, which she returns, still sniffing. “I’m pleased to hear that.”</p>
<p>Soon enough, the professors return, and, with the troll apparently dealt with, the feast resumes, the chatter in the hall seeming somewhat lighter than it was before – particularly on the Slytherin table. Harry is absolutely ecstatic to see some of Hermione’s older housemates shoot her small, slightly quizzical smiles, before he’s dragged into explaining the ritual to the muggleborns of both his year and the next year up in Ravenclaw.</p>
<p>“Next time,” Terry declares finally, “We should all do it. The whole year – we <em>can</em> do it with that many, right?”</p>
<p>“We can,” Harry allows, thoughtful, “But we’d need a bigger fire. The magic will actually be stronger for it, though.”</p>
<p><em>To introduce so many to it</em>, he thinks, <em>would be incredible.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Almost exactly four days later finds Harry standing outside a door, cauldron in his left hand and wand in his right, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as he wonders whether or not he’s meant to knock. Professor Snape didn’t say anything about knocking, though; he just said to be outside the door at eight, and Harry can’t think of a single time that Professor Snape has said something he doesn’t mean.</p>
<p>To his relief, the door swings open on eight o’clock exactly, Harry tilting his head back to meet the dark eyes of his Potions professor.</p>
<p>“Come in, Mr Potter,” Professor Snape tells him, pointing to a desk right at the front. “Now, before I introduce you to depths of potion-making that I plan to, I must first ensure that your foundation is utterly, unbreakably solid. For the next month at least – and likely more – we will not brew any potions in these sessions. Instead, I will ensure that your preparation and care of your cauldron, as well as your techniques, are perfect, and that you understand the reasoning behind every single action. If you are too impatient for that, then the door is there. I will not waste my time with those who wish to take shortcuts at the expense of perfection.”</p>
<p>Harry stays exactly where he is, and after a moment’s pause, Professor Snape nods. Briefly, Harry even thinks he sees a flash of approval in that otherwise cold expression.</p>
<p>“Good. Once I am satisfied, we will begin to brew. Every potion that we brew, we will repeat several times. The first time, we shall do so as in class. The second time, you will do your best to recall the recipe through logic and, where necessary, I shall provide guidance. Then, we will go to the forest, and under my supervision, you will collect the ingredients needed there. Those which are not so easily procured, I will provide – but you <em>will</em> prepare each and every ingredient you use for the third brew. Over this time, we will also discuss any improvements which could be made, and any potential pitfalls. You will then brew the potion, and if it is not perfect, then you will continue to collect and prepare the ingredients and brew that same potion until it is. Is that understood?”</p>
<p>Quiet and solemn, Harry nods. Internally, he works his way through Professor Snape’s methodology, picking it apart in silence; Professor Snape wants him to grasp every single drop of theory he possibly can, he realises, to ensure that Harry will not mindlessly follow the instructions for a potion, but will be able to think for himself on how it should be made and perhaps, eventually, research and develop his own.</p>
<p>Professor Snape is training him to become a Potions Master, and Harry couldn’t be more thrilled at the prospect.</p>
<p>Over the rest of the term, Harry learns the proper way to bring water to a boil, how to clean his cauldron, how to gauge exact temperatures, and what effect each method of slicing, dicing, crushing, grating and grinding has on each and every ingredient within Professor Snape’s cupboard. By the time the Winter Holiday arrives, Harry finds himself turning up outside of the classroom each Monday evening with questions on the tip of his tongue about why the textbook says to do it <em>this</em> way, when surely <em>this</em> would be better. Professor Snape listens to each and every enquiry with a smirk, then prods him to explain himself fully, and Harry catches on quickly that Professor Snape is well aware of these faults and even more irritated by them than Harry himself. Soon, Professor Snape has him arriving half an hour earlier in order to spend more time discussing these questions and what the effects of different improvements would be.</p>
<p>“After Yule,” Professor Snape begins at the end of their final session of the term, standing from his usual seat on the edge of his desk (Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing the man sit so informally), “I expect to see you starting to implement these ideas in class – but <em>only</em> if you are absolutely certain that what you are doing is correct. You will not be faulted for noticing a mistake but following the recipe regardless because you are not <em>entirely</em> sure that you are right. I will not have you endangering yourself or others, is that understood?”</p>
<p>Speechless but more than a little pleased with the thought that Professor Snape trusts him so explicitly, Harry can only nod.</p>
<p>“Good,” Professor Snape nods, a hint of something that looks almost like a <em>smile</em> curling at the edge of his lips; Harry must be mistaken, because they’re cordial, certainly, and Professor Snape seems to respect his passion for Potions – possibly seeing a little of himself in Harry or something like that – but a smile is certainly out of the question. “Now, you will be excused from these sessions for the 23<sup>rd</sup> and 30<sup>th</sup>, to celebrate Yule, but I expect you here promptly on January 6<sup>th</sup>, at seven thirty. Understood?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Sir!” Harry nods, trying not to beam too noticeably. “Thank you, Sir!”</p>
<p>“Be on your way, then, Mr Potter,” Professor Snape tells him, turning away, and doesn’t speak again until Harry’s halfway out of the door. “A Plentiful Yule, Mr Potter.”</p>
<p>“Plentiful Yule to you too, Sir!” Harry chirps, and cannot stop himself from bouncing a little down the corridor on his way back to Ravenclaw Tower.</p>
<p>If he’d have looked back, he’d undoubtedly have stopped, embarrassed, on spotting Professor Snape watching him with a small, barely noticeable smirk of amusement – and maybe, though Severus Snape, revered and dreaded equally by the student body of Hogwarts, would never have admitted it, just a little bit of fondness.</p>
<p>The problem is, in all honesty, that ever since the Potter boy stayed after that first lesson to speak to him, Severus has forced himself to keep an open mind. As much as he expected the boy to be an insolent brat, and as convinced as he was, over that first lesson, that his expectations were correct, hearing the child apologise for his father’s actions in such a desperate tone had struck a chord in him. Severus was reminded rather uncomfortably of his own need as a child to be nothing like his father, and with that realisation came another – that he was close to tormenting a child in much the same way as James Potter had tormented him, or perhaps worse.</p>
<p>Perhaps the recoil was too strong, and perhaps he went too far back the other way, or perhaps Harry Potter really is just a likeable, respectful boy with a passion for Potions that reminds Severus of himself, or perhaps he’s just clinging to the opportunity to actually teach the subject he <em>loves</em>, rather than this twisted, diluted pile of dragon dung that he’s forced to shove down the throats of bratty, disrespectful students. Whatever the reason, Severus can’t deny that the boy <em>is</em> starting to grow on him, and even seems to take a little after Lily in his attitude to learning, though not so much her fiery temperament.</p>
<p>The worst part is that Severus isn’t even sure he <em>minds</em> that much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Only Uncle Salazar is waiting for them when they step onto the platform at Yule, but he greets them both with a wide smile, kneeling to offer each of them a hug in turn.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid that you’ll have to wait for a moment or two before heading home,” he tells them on standing, grinning when Dudley huffs and reaching out to ruffle their hair; Harry is fast enough to duck, but Dudley, not so much. “It’s alright, Dudley – I need to meet with someone, is all, and I believe you know his son already.”</p>
<p>It must be another parent, Harry realises – a suspicion which is swiftly confirmed as Salazar leads them across the platform to where Draco stands with his mother and father.</p>
<p>“Lord and Lady Malfoy,” Uncle Salazar greets, offering a short bow to each of them in turn before reaching out his hand for each of them to shake, and they mirror his actions, both glancing down to his House ring as they do so.</p>
<p>“Lord Potter,” Lord Malfoy returns cordially, a note of curiosity in his tone.</p>
<p>“Please,” Uncle Salazar smiles. “Call me Salazar.”</p>
<p>“Then Lucius it is,” Lord Malfoy replies at once, though his eyes have widened a little. “And my wife, Narcissa.”</p>
<p>Narcissa smiles politely, grey eyes sharp and curious as they flicker over Salazar; Harry would have been a fool to miss their reaction to Uncle Salazar’s name, and from beside his mother, Draco mouths to them incredulously,</p>
<p>‘<em>Salazar Potter?</em>’</p>
<p>A little smug, Harry nods. Uncle Salazar really has been keeping a low profile, if a Lord of such high status as Lord Malfoy didn’t even known that <em>he</em> was Lord Potter.</p>
<p>“Perhaps, Salazar, you’d be willing to accompany us to Malfoy Manor briefly?” Lord Malfoy offers. “I believe Draco is friends with your nephew and…?”</p>
<p>“Dudley is Harry’s cousin,” Uncle Salazar explains easily. “I’ve taken over responsibility for teaching both of them our ways since my return.”</p>
<p>“Your return…” Lord Malfoy murmurs, pausing for a moment before nodding. “Yes…”</p>
<p>“I would love to take you up on such a kind offer,” Uncle Salazar continues. “I believe there are some matters to discuss which would best left unaired in such… places.”</p>
<p>Five minutes later, Harry, Dudley and Draco have been shepherded out of the Malfoys’ drawing room with firm instructions that Draco be a polite host and keep his guests entertained. For a moment after the door closes, they hover, then Draco bites his lip and looks around.</p>
<p>“Well…” he sighs, eyes flickering briefly back to the room in which Uncle Salazar sits, talking to Draco’s parents. “I <em>could</em> show you the gardens, or we <em>could</em> play Snap, or Chess, <em>or</em>…”</p>
<p>His eyes slide across to the door once more.</p>
<p>“We <em>could</em> stay here,” he offers, “Just, er… catch up until the adults are done talking.”</p>
<p>Harry couldn’t agree more with that idea, and in a matter of seconds, they’re all crowded up against the door, listening closely to the conversation within.</p>
<p>“…that Dumbledore is keeping something within the school,” Uncle Salazar is saying, a hint of anger in his tone. “Something he plans to use to lure trouble, I’ve heard.”</p>
<p>“We’ve heard similar,” Lady Malfoy agrees softly, though there’s no denying the steel which hardens her words. “And more. Dumbledore had to notify the Board, of course, though somehow he managed to go ahead with this ridiculous plan without requiring <em>permission</em>…”</p>
<p>“The Philosopher’s Stone,” Lord Malfoy murmurs, slightly stilted, as though his jaw is clenched particularly tightly. “Why Lord Flamel would allow such a thing is beyond me. The <em>danger</em> it puts the students in if such knowledge becomes common – and he’s hardly <em>trying</em> to keep it hidden.”</p>
<p>“I worry,” Uncle Salazar starts silkily, the tone so similar to Professor Snape at his angriest that it gives Harry chills, “That such an end might be desirable for him. He has a… disturbing habit, you might say, of endangering my nephew, and I must say that it concerns me.”</p>
<p>“A habit?” Lord Malfoy enquires, audibly interested.</p>
<p>“Mmm…” Uncle Salazar sighs. “The night my brother died, Harry was left on a doorstep, with no warming charms. He almost died that night – it was Samhain, of course, so certainly, the night was not warm, and it was only by luck that his aunt on his mother’s side found him. Muggle Healers were required to save his life.”</p>
<p>“Poor child!” Lady Malfoy whispers, horror dripping from the hushed words.</p>
<p>Harry pulls a face at the comment, but can’t deny that it was a terrible thing for Dumbledore to do – and certainly, he’s somewhat fortunate to be here today. Still, he ignores Draco’s stare and keeps listening.</p>
<p>“Quite – but he wasn’t content with that,” Uncle Salazar tells Draco’s parents stonily. “He took control of my family’s estate, including Harry’s inheritance, sealed both James and Lily’s wills, and stole from my family for many years, all while neglecting to do the other duty which he had illegitimately taken on – to educate Harry on his heritage.”</p>
<p>“Yes, we heard a little about that <em>appalling</em> state of affairs,” Lord Malfoy confirms. “Draco mentioned it in his first letter home, I believe. He was quite distraught – for good reason of course. Such a thing is almost unimaginable.”</p>
<p>“Did he, now?” Uncle Salazar murmurs, and for a moment, Harry wonders if he wasn’t supposed to mention it after all, but when Uncle Salazar continues, he sounds pleased. “Well, needless to say, I have spent the last few years cleaning up this mess and making up for Dumbledore’s neglect. I’ve decided to teach Dudley everything he could possibly need to know as well; it has been a great honour to undertake, particularly now that Harry and Dudley, along with Draco, of course, have taken another muggleborn under their wing – in Slytherin, too, so I hear.”</p>
<p>“Hermione Granger, yes…” Lady Malfoy speaks as though Hermione’s name is some kind of particularly exotic sweet, almost seeming to taste it as it rolls off her tongue. “She joined in their Samhain ritual. Draco says she’s very eager to learn about our political system – and very understanding of our desire to keep our traditions the same.”</p>
<p>“And, of course, keen to build and improve upon the foundations we have laid,” Uncle Salazar returns neutrally, and for a moment, silence falls, then he sighs. “I must admit… I will be glad of the day Harry comes of age.”</p>
<p>Harry starts, confused by the change of subject and the mention of his name all of a sudden, when he thought they were still discussing Hermione.</p>
<p>“Oh?” Lord Malfoy asks, apparently equally intrigued.</p>
<p>“Indeed,” Uncle Salazar confirms. “Perhaps what I should have mentioned earlier is that Lord Potter is <em>not</em> my only title, and it can be a little tiring to hold so firmly to the Grey, when really, I have allegiances of my own to consider.”</p>
<p>Again, quiet falls.</p>
<p>“There have been strange things happening in the Wizengamot of late,” Lord Malfoy muses, out of the blue. “Seats long thought inactive are starting to… influence things.”</p>
<p>“Indeed?” Uncle Salazar hums. “How intriguing.”</p>
<p>“Just a couple of votes, here or there, pushing a little against the Light,” Lord Malfoy continues. “When did you say you returned, Salazar?”</p>
<p>“Oh, around two and a half years ago… Though I’ve been rather busy until fairly recently.”</p>
<p>Utterly bemused but well aware that there is some sort of subtext going on, Harry shifts and glances at his friend and cousin, but neither of them seem to have any more answers than he does; indeed, they seem to be hoping that he might have something to offer, and at his shrug, they deflate.</p>
<p>“Where were you for all those years, that you were so unreachable?” Lady Malfoy presses softly.</p>
<p>“That, I think,” Uncle Salazar begins, sounding amused, “Is a story for another time, Narcissa. Perhaps when we do not have three eleven-year-olds listening outside the door.”</p>
<p>Harry just about has time to step back before the doors swing open to reveal the three of them, Uncle Salazar watching with amusement from an armchair, one leg crossed over the other, as Lady Malfoy lowers her wand and tucks it away, then stands to make her way towards them. As she does so, Harry sees Uncle Salazar lean across to murmur something to Lord Malfoy, and whatever he says, the blond man falls utterly serious, shooting him a wary look before replying. Apparently satisfied – or at least, willing to leave it for the time being – Uncle Salazar sits back and stands, smiling once more.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Lucius, Narcissa, for being such gracious hosts,” he declares. “It really has been a delightful conversation, but I believe we should take our leave – Harry and Dudley must be desperate to get home, and I think I’ve kept them quite long enough.”</p>
<p>“It’s been our pleasure,” Lady Malfoy assures. “Hopefully, we will have another chance to speak soon.”</p>
<p>Only when they’re wandering up the road towards their own house, Uncle Salazar having taken them along by side-apparition to their usual hidden landing point – a permanently warded grove near a small duckpond – that Harry dares to ask the question which has been burning away inside him since before they left Malfoy Manor.</p>
<p>“Do they know?” he bursts out, then lowers his voice quickly as Uncle Salazar glances down at him and rises an eyebrow, clarifying, “Lord and Lady Malfoy. Do they know who you are? Or suspect, I mean?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar sighs.</p>
<p>“No,” he tells Harry, Dudley listening curiously as well. “Not… exactly. They suspect that, in the last fourteen years, something I have done has led to my being Lord Slytherin. They are not sure enough to announce it publicly, but have strong enough suspicions to whisper of it among Dark families. And that is how I wish for it to stay, for the next while at least.”</p>
<p>He pauses in front of their gate, fixing each of them with a stern look.</p>
<p>“That means you will not tell Draco anything which you are not <em>certain</em> that he already knows about me, or that does not strongly suggest I was merely abroad over those fourteen years, stuck without any way to travel. If you are unsure, you say nothing. Is that understood?”</p>
<p>Quickly, Harry nods, and Dudley echoes the motion.</p>
<p>“Good,” Uncle Salazar tells them, relaxing as he reaches out to unlatch the gate and hold it open for them both. “Now, Petunia and Vernon have been dying to see you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Late December is a strange time of year in the Dursley-Potter household, and has been since Uncle Salazar appeared. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon celebrate Christmas as ever, and Uncle Salazar goes along with it where it doesn’t interfere with his own celebration of Yule. Mostly, Harry celebrates Yule alongside him, but Dudley always seems a little less convinced, preferring to maintain his own parents’ traditions. It’s one of the few times of the year when there seems to be a slight divide between Potters and Dursleys, and despite his need to be close to the last of his father’s family and honour the traditions he would have grown up with in another world, he sometimes wonders, somewhat guiltily, if he isn’t pulling away from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon a little too much.</p>
<p>Luckily, whenever he gets down about it, Uncle Salazar is there to talk him through it, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have Dudley, who more than makes up for it. Uncle Salazar has no one – which leads, inevitably, to the rather tense atmosphere around the dinner table on their second night at home, Uncle Salazar staring awkwardly at his plate while Uncle Vernon watches him like a hawk, Aunt Petunia glancing between the two with pursed lips, while Harry and Dudley share clueless glances.</p>
<p>All Dudley did was ask when Uncle Salazar would finally start seeing a woman; neither boy can work out where the stilted atmosphere has come from, or what it means.</p>
<p>“Salazar had a partner,” Aunt Petunia offers gently after the silence has already stretched on for far too long, “Back when… Well, he’s still mourning – her.”</p>
<p>“But he’ll meet a nice girl soon enough,” Uncle Vernon announces, slightly too loud, without looking away from Uncle Salazar for an instant. “Settle down properly, and all. Just needs to find the <em>right</em> girl, really –”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar stands and, for the first time in the more than two years that Harry has known him, leaves without finishing his meal or excusing himself. Baffled and a little concerned, Harry stares after him and debates briefly over whether or not he should follow, but decides finally that Uncle Salazar might prefer to be alone at the moment.</p>
<p>Later that evening, he pretends he can’t see Uncle Vernon and Uncle Salazar arguing at the far end of the garden, where no one can hear them, and Aunt Petunia does her best to keep him and Dudley distracted anyway, though her attempts at lightening the subdued atmosphere fall through every time.</p>
<p>The next morning, it’s as if nothing ever happened. Uncle Vernon wakes them both up and takes them out for their weekly morning run once it’s bright enough to be safe, his usual jolly self, and Uncle Salazar is as serene and unfazed as ever when they return, discussing the contents of The Prophet with both Harry and Dudley over lunch.</p>
<p>Harry, having been distracted first by being back at home and then by the strange occurrences of the night before, only remembers about Uncle Salazar’s conversation with Lord and Lady Malfoy that afternoon. Dumbledore is hiding the <em>Philosopher’s Stone</em>, of all things, at Hogwarts – and it must be on the third floor, because why else would that much of the castle be blocked off from student access? He’s not sure, though, what Uncle Salazar could be thinking it has to do with him. Why would Dumbledore actively <em>try</em> to endanger him – and how would hiding some alchemist’s (admittedly ridiculously overpowered) trinket in the school achieve that goal? At any rate, surely Lord Flamel would never agree to such a plan.</p>
<p>For the first time, Harry wishes that he had his father’s Invisibility Cloak. Unfortunately, his father was apparently so convinced that Uncle Salazar would return – he still remembers seeing the tears welling in Uncle Salazar’s eyes when the man seemed to realise that at the will readings – that he left a good number of things to Uncle Salazar, with contingencies only if Uncle Salazar did not collect them after a decade, and the Invisibility Cloak was one of them. Really, it would have been perfect for something like this – to sneak into the third floor and just see if his suspicions are correct.</p>
<p>Then again, perhaps it’s best that he doesn’t have it, because this way, he can’t run the risk of finding something genuinely dangerous there as a result of what would, admittedly, be a rather stupid adventure.</p>
<p>Deciding to put it out of his mind over the holiday, Harry throws himself eagerly back into rugby with his old friends, glad to catch up with them all and exchange – carefully censored – stories. Yule itself is as brilliant as always, though, to Harry’s disappointment as well as, he thinks, Uncle Salazar’s, Dudley chooses not to join them for the most important part, leaving Harry and Uncle Salazar beside one another in the darkness of winter evening, meat roasting over open, crackling flames before them as they toss various woods and dusts onto the fire, letting it burn hot and multi-coloured, the very air around them buzzing with magic.</p>
<p>Finally, Uncle Salazar flicks his fingers, and from within the flames, a small, white-hot iron vial rises, cooling rapidly in the night’s air then quicker still when Harry pulls their silver bucket of ice-water over for Uncle Salazar to drop it into. After several minutes, when it is deemed cool enough to touch, Uncle Salazar removes it by hand and pulls out the stopper, taking a mouthful of the warm, spiced concoction within then handing it to Harry to do the same. As the liquid flows down his throat, Harry shivers with the familiarly spine-tingling sensation of his magic waking up without his own conscious effort, seeping through his bones and sparking at his fingertips.</p>
<p>For the rest of the night, they sit together, speaking in quiet tones about the year past and the year to come, sharing the roasted meat eventually alongside berries and nuts, and occasionally drinking from the iron vial. When the sun rises, they exchange their Yule gifts, Harry offering a brilliantly green stone carved painstakingly into the form of a snake then settling back to listen to the beautiful melody that Uncle Salazar has created just for him, plucked gently on the strings of an instrument which Harry does not know the name of and, strangely, does not want to ask. Then, having expressed their heartfelt gratitude, they douse the flames, clear the area, and return to the house to sleep.</p>
<p><em>It’s a shame</em>, thinks Harry drowsily as he settles down into bed, ready to sleep for the next 24 hours or so – an aftereffect of the ritual, <em>that Dudley didn’t want to join.</em></p>
<p>He rather thinks his cousin was missing out.</p>
<p>Strangely, when he wakes the next morning, there seems to be something of a void between himself and his cousin. Perhaps, more accurately, there seems to be a void between Dudley and Uncle Salazar, and Harry finds himself automatically taking his uncle’s side, because he can’t see any reason for Dudley to be upset with Uncle Salazar, and if Dudley actually <em>has</em> a reason, then he doesn’t bother to share it with Harry, which feels a little hurtful. Instead, Harry’s stuck watching Dudley dance awkwardly around the topic and withdraw slightly from Harry’s lessons, leaving Harry – and, it seems, Uncle Salazar – bewildered and a touch disheartened.</p>
<p>Even when Harry explicitly broaches the subject, sitting down one day with Dudley to ask if his cousin is upset with Uncle Salazar, all he gets is a short ‘no’ and some awkward shifting, Dudley apparently dedicated to his desire to stay silent on whatever the issue is. If that’s how he’s going to play it, Harry decides eventually when Dudley declares that he doesn’t feel like going flying with Harry and Uncle Salazar for the first time in <em>ever</em>, then that’s how it’s going to be. There’s nothing that Harry can do about it if he doesn’t know what’s going on, after all.</p>
<p>Still, the rest of the holiday passes well enough, without any further explicit conflict, and they welcome the New Year in as a family, with shortbread and drinks, smiling and laughing together until midnight and beyond. After that, it seems, everything is back to normal – apart from the occasional furtive glances that Dudley shoots Uncle Salazar, as if something the man has said or done has just reminded him of whatever the problem was before, though there does not seem to be a pattern to it. Harry returns to Hogwarts happy and well-rested, more than ready to continue learning, and maybe, just maybe, find out more about the third-floor corridor.</p>
<p>(Not, of course, that he’d <em>ever</em> be stupid enough to go looking deliberately. He’s not an idiot, and Uncle Salazar would likely strangle him.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>An early chapter today, though I must warn you that this is only because it's a far shorter chapter than the rest; I'll upload Chapter Six on Sunday, and then I'll be back to posting every Saturday.</p>
<p>I hope you're all well, and keeping yourselves both physically and mentally healthy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An Interlude: The Dispute between one Mr Vernon Dursley and one Mr Salazar Potter</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time Salazar has a chance to speak to Vernon alone, his emotions have moved from discomfort and embarrassment, through hurt and defensiveness, and firmly into anger and indignation. For the last two and a half years, he has bent to the man’s ridiculous demands: of all the times he has conceded to the boys’ requests to hear about his life over the last fourteen years, not once has he mentioned Godric as more than a friend; never has he brought another man into this house; open-mindedness towards all sexualities is the only part of magical culture which he has shied away from revealing to Harry, all because of Vernon Dursley – not that he’s been planning to keep it that way for much longer, if he can help it, but Vernon certainly doesn’t know that.</p>
<p>And <em>this</em> is how the man repays him? By disrespecting him, by making pointed remarks, by humiliating and belittling him with snide little comments, pressing his muggle prejudice into Salazar while Petunia sits by and covers for her husband?</p>
<p>Salazar won’t stand for it.</p>
<p>“Outside,” he hisses when the boys aren’t looking, and Vernon turns to scowl at him, apparently about to protest, “Unless you’d rather have this discussion in here?”</p>
<p>He gestures pointedly to Harry and Dudley, watching Vernon’s jaw tighten with no small sense of satisfaction, then the man ups and storms from the room without a word, leaving Salazar to nod curtly at Petunia and follow.</p>
<p>“How <em>dare</em> you!” Vernon explodes as soon as the man appears to deem them far enough from the house to remain unheard, wheeling on Salazar with his face flushed scarlet. “How <em>dare</em> you even –”</p>
<p>“How dare <em>I</em>?” Salazar interrupts, furious. “I have done <em>nothing</em> but acquiesce to your <em>petty</em> little demands – I have not spoken of it, not once, to you or to the boys. I have been <em>nothing</em> but quiet about it, and <em>you </em>choose to explicitly –”</p>
<p>“<em>I know what you do at the weekend</em>!” Vernon roars, so loudly that Salazar could almost imagine that the neighbours might hear through the wards he set up around the property over two years ago. “I know where you go, I know that you meet those – those <em>men</em>, and God knows what you do with them, but it isn’t <em>right</em>, it never <em>will</em> be right, and it’s enough of a disgrace to have you in my house!”</p>
<p>With each word, Salazar finds himself backed further and further up, Vernon leaning in with spittle flying until thorns prick into the back of Salazar’s legs and he realises that he has nowhere to go. Instinctively, he reaches for his wand, anger coursing through him, but he left it inside for this very reason, in case he didn’t have the self-restraint to avoid cursing this man, and the mere second it adds to the time he would take to curse Vernon – he could do it wandlessly, if he wanted – is enough to give his sense the chance to catch up.</p>
<p>“It’s no business of yours what I do!” he snarls in return. “I keep it away from your house, from your family – from <em>my </em>family! I keep my nephew away from our culture for you, and you choose to disrespect <em>my lover</em> in front of him? I have done nothing but help you, your wife, your son – I could have taken Harry the day I returned, and you’d never have seen him again, but I <em>didn’t</em>.”</p>
<p>“You could <em>never</em> take Harry away from us!” Vernon seethes, hand snatching out to grip Salazar’s collar, and it takes every drop of Salazar’s mental strength not to curse him there and then.</p>
<p>“I could have had your memory wiped of his existence!” he snaps back, satisfaction coursing through at the doubt that flickers in Vernon’s eyes. “It would have been my right in magical law, and you’d never have known it happened – and your disregard for <em>my </em>culture – for <em>his</em> culture – wouldn’t have mattered. You keep that in mind, Vernon Dursley. You keep that well in mind.”</p>
<p>Vernon stares at him for several seconds, visibly shaking with rage, and Salazar lets himself smirk a little, just to irritate the man.</p>
<p>“If you <em>dare</em> pass on this… this <em>sinful</em> lifestyle to my son or my nephew…” Vernon growls finally, and the hand in Salazar’s collar shakes deliberately this time, “You will be out of our lives immediately! You can go and find one of your fellow degenerates to live with – pay him with your devilry, I don’t care. If this infects my family, then I will throw you out in an instant!”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Salazar bites out, as much as he wants to scream in the man’s face that it’s already too late, and in a matter of years, he’ll see the truth of the matter, regardless of how quiet Salazar stays. “But you will <em>never</em> again suggest that I might ‘settle down with the right girl’ or whatever nonsense you came out with over dinner – or Harry and I will be gone by the next sunrise, and don’t think he’ll choose you over me.”</p>
<p>Truthfully, he doesn’t plan on abandoning Dudley like that; the boy will have a difficult enough time in the coming years with Salazar around to support him, never mind without. All the same, he won’t bother to try and pretend that Dudley would pick him over Vernon and Petunia.</p>
<p>Vernon releases his collar, still glaring furiously, then takes a few steps back, spitting at Salazar’s feet before turning away to march back to the house. A moment later, the man spins back around.</p>
<p>“Not a word of any of this to the boys,” he growls.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Vernon,” Salazar tells him, falsely amused, and can’t resist a final jab. “I’ll wait a few years, until they come asking for all the answers that you’re refusing to give them. I won’t do a thing to influence them, but it’ll come, nonetheless. Just you wait.”</p>
<p>Vernon storms off without another word, Salazar deciding to remain outside, in the chilled winter air, and straighten his shirt. Perhaps, just to spite Vernon, he should make a trip out tonight – but no, it’s too cold for that to be sensible, and he has no doubt that it would worry the boys, were he to disappear in such a way. Besides, Yule is a time for family.</p>
<p>Sighing, he watches his breath crystalize softly before his face, the fog drifting slowly away. Perhaps he should not have thrown threats of taking Harry away in Vernon’s face – certainly, it will not endear the man to him – but the insults to Godric, to himself, could not be ignored, and the frustration and hurt have been building inside him for quite some time, merely coming to a dramatic head tonight. He cannot live the rest of his life like this, he knows – not in hiding, and not without a partner for more than a little bit of fun. Someday, he will have to leave Godric behind, and accept that they will never meet again – that he has lost his lover for good, without a chance to say goodbye beyond their mutually anguished cries of denial.</p>
<p>Without him realising, his hand has risen, and now his fingers close around the amulet that rests constantly against his bare skin, twitching with the urge to rip it off and just wait for his unruly magic to whisk him back to those he misses so desperately – but no, he has a duty here. He has a duty to his brother, to his nephew – even to Dudley, and to the magical community as a whole. Their heritage is rotting from the inside, left to stagnate in a narrow-minded push for more, no one caring that the foundations are crumbling further with everything new that is built upon it. The sooner Harry can take up his lordship, the better; then, Salazar can settle into his title of Lord Slytherin completely, and put everything he has into the Dark cause – at least until the Light have lost a little of their iron control on the Isles – without feeling as though he is betraying his family.</p>
<p>For that, though, Harry needs to know everything.</p>
<p>Perhaps, Salazar should start to consider alternative arrangements for accommodation. Nothing <em>too</em> soon, of course – just a little back-up, which he can work on for the next few years to ensure that it’s ready when he needs it to be. Besides, with the moves that the Light are making these days, seemingly more confident by the day, the Dark and the Grey will need every drop of extra influence that they can muster, and certainly, the revival of Potter Manor will add something of a boost.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, I hope that everyone is well, and if you have anything that you want to ask or point out, or you simply wish to chat about this fic or Harry Potter in general, please do feel free to comment.</p>
<p>For anyone who's going to be offended by the occasional swearword, I think this chapter contains the first occurrence (in that I know it contains an occurrence, but I can't remember if it's the first).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oof!” Harry gasps, stumbling back a step before managing to steady himself, and takes a second more to ensure that he’s stable before wrapping his arms around Hermione to reciprocate the embrace – more of a tackle, really, but he’s not complaining. “Good holiday?”</p>
<p>“Yes, it was great!” she announces, drawing back to beam at him, and continues speaking even as she turns to hug Dudley as well. “I’ve been reading a book that Draco gave me all about magical festivals – I still celebrated Christmas this year, but I’d really like to experience Yule at some point. It sounds <em>incredible</em>.”</p>
<p>“It is,” Harry tells her, grinning, and offers Draco, Vincent and Gregory a distracted wave as the three approach. “Maybe you could spend it with us one year? Our uncle would love to introduce you to it.”</p>
<p>Dudley twitches a little at the mention of Uncle Salazar but says nothing, and Harry can only eye him closely, making sure that Dudley is fully aware that Harry noticed the reaction. It’s just a little bit more pressure piled onto his cousin to explain the situation, because Harry does <em>not</em> like being kept out of the loop, and nor does it sit well with him that Dudley has developed a disliking for Uncle Salazar for no apparent reason.</p>
<p>“Do you two celebrate Yule, then?” Hermione asks them curiously. “I mean, Dudley, your parents are…”</p>
<p>“My parents celebrate Christmas still,” Dudley shrugs. “I sort of mix it up a bit – but mostly I stuck to Christmas this year. Harry always celebrates Yule, though.”</p>
<p>“You should’ve been there,” Harry offers with a gentle nudge to his cousin’s side. “It was brilliant – and we missed you.”</p>
<p>Awkwardly, Dudley shrugs and looks away, Harry deflating a little at the sight. <em>Never mind that, then.</em></p>
<p>“How was Yule for you three?” he asks Draco and co. to brush over the slightly uncomfortable pause, turning to the three new arrivals, and Draco nods eagerly.</p>
<p>“It was excellent,” he declares, eyes lighting up at once. “I swear, it gets better every year.”</p>
<p>Nodding in quiet agreement, Harry turns to Vincent, who sighs.</p>
<p>“We… couldn’t celebrate properly this year,” the other boy admits, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “The Ministry decided to prohibit my parents from taking part in any rituals for the next four months.”</p>
<p>“But that’ll take out Ostara as well!” Harry exclaims, horrified, before he can help it, and Vincent nods miserably.</p>
<p>“What happened?” Gregory murmurs quietly, visibly concerned as he settles a hand on Vincent’s shoulder in gentle comfort; Vincent draws in a deep breath and sets his shoulders, staring rigidly ahead.</p>
<p>“They passed legislation to criminalise another of our annual rituals, stormed our house without warning the next day and found an artefact we keep only for that ritual, and declared that we’d been performing illegal rituals. The only reason it wasn’t worse is because they couldn’t prove that we <em>had </em>performed the ritual, only that we must have had intent to do so.”</p>
<p>Sickened and more than a little angry, Harry can only gape at Vincent for several seconds. How dare the Ministry do something like that? It’s enough that they think they have any right to criminalise family traditions in the first place – the Crabbe Family, although not noble, has a long heritage, including a busy schedule of rituals throughout the year – but to then convict Mr and Mrs Crabbe without allowing them to simply stop performing the ritual instead? It’s utterly infuriating.</p>
<p>“Those <em>bastards</em>,” Draco seethes at his side, eyes flashing. “Do you know, they’ve started making moves to ban possession of categories of artefacts that most of our heirlooms fall into? And it was only the other month that Blaise told me they’d put a ban on performing one of his family’s most traditional branches of magic – with an <em>Azkaban</em> sentence as punishment! The utter <em>gall</em> of them, I swear…”</p>
<p>To Harry’s surprise, it’s Dudley who reaches out to settle a hand on Draco’s shoulder, calming him gently.</p>
<p>“The Dark will push back,” comes the quiet assurance, Draco calming with obvious reluctance. “And the Grey will support them – they won’t stand for this kind of imbalance.”</p>
<p>“It’s outright prosecution,” Harry agrees with a nod and a small smile flashed in his cousin’s direction. “The Grey will help your parents in this.”</p>
<p>That seems, luckily, to appease Draco, and even Vincent manages a small smile, though he still appears subdued. Harry doesn’t blame him; since his first Yule, he can’t imagine going another December without performing the inherent ritual, and to face the prospect of his parents not being able to partake in Ostara, either…</p>
<p>He’ll keep an eye on Vincent, and just make sure he’s doing alright.</p>
<p>“Gregory,” he begins, deciding to move on for the time being. “How was your Yule?”</p>
<p>With one last, concerned glance shot towards Vincent, Gregory opens his mouth to speak.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Really, there’s not much to be done about the Light’s dominance of the Ministry and persecution of Dark families – they’re only kids, after all, and Harry trusts Uncle Salazar, along with his friends’ parents, to do what’s best to sort it all out – so soon enough, Harry settles down into a comfortable routine. Hermione has started to join them on their weekly morning run around the lake, and at first, she struggles to keep up, but neither Harry nor Dudley allow themselves to become impatient with her. Within a month, she’s keeping pace easily enough, although admittedly they’ve taken to running a little more slowly while she continues to progress.</p>
<p>The Philosopher’s Stone stays hidden away in the third-floor corridor, out of bounds and supposedly attracting trouble, though of what kind, Harry couldn’t possibly say. He does his best to stay away from it, as much as the curiosity burns; he’ll take staying alive and fulfilling his other dreams over satisfying <em>that</em> particular itch. Instead, he buries himself in his learning, both magical and otherwise, and finds himself sending more and more letters to Uncle Salazar without Dudley’s input, while in turn not always wanting to add to Dudley’s correspondence with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; he hasn’t exactly forgiven Uncle Vernon for whatever he did to upset Uncle Salazar that evening over the break.</p>
<p>Luckily, his weekly sessions with Professor Snape provide a welcome distraction from the small rift that seems to be growing within their family and, once or twice, he’s proud to say that he manages to adjust a potion in their normal lessons to improve it, which actually, to his delight, earns him not only house points, but a nod and the faintest shadow of a half-smile. Soon, he knows, he’ll get to start brewing potions in those extra sessions as well, and while it will be a long time before he starts brewing anything he hasn’t before – Professor Snape is firmly set on going through the entire syllabus from the beginning, much the same way as he built up Harry’s initial foundations – there will still be tweaks made, the methods slightly different or the ingredients switched up. Beyond that, the prospect of collecting and preparing his ingredients himself thrills him to the core.</p>
<p>Alright, so maybe he’s a bit of a Potions nerd. As much as Dudley teases him for it, the jabs are always light-hearted and fond, and Uncle Salazar is more than supportive, pride seeming to spark in the man’s eyes whenever Harry starts up on one of his long-winded raves about the subject – a pride which definitely isn’t tempered by the fact that Uncle Salazar, in being the one to introduce Harry to potion-making, has probably had a strong influence on Harry’s passion for the subject. At any rate, Harry certainly isn’t ashamed of it.</p>
<p>Perhaps the best thing to come out of January, though, is when Dudley finally sits down with him in the library when their friends are all elsewhere, fidgeting in silence for a moment while Harry continues his homework before drawing in a deep breath, the sound prompting Harry to look up and take notice.</p>
<p>“Dad told me to be careful around Uncle Salazar,” Dudley admits quietly, to Harry’s surprise and momentary befuddlement. “When you were celebrating Yule with him – or, when you were sleeping afterwards, actually – he told me that I should keep my distance. He wouldn’t say why, and I don’t really see why I should, but I’ve just been acting strangely, I guess, because I didn’t really know what to do. Dad <em>did</em> seem really worried – you know he’s not the sort to get worked up over nothing.”</p>
<p>Privately, Harry’s not <em>entirely</em> sure he agrees with that assessment, but he nods his head in general acknowledgement all the same while he considers the rest of Dudley’s words.</p>
<p>“Do you think it’s got anything to do with that argument?” he asks quietly, and Dudley shrugs at first, then sighs.</p>
<p>“Probably,” his cousin admits. “But unless we can find out what actually happened…”</p>
<p>Trailing off, Dudley lifts one large shoulder and glances away, then turns back to Harry.</p>
<p>“I think I am going to keep my distance,” he announces. “But… I guess I just wanted you to know why – I don’t want it to affect <em>us</em>, and I think it has been.”</p>
<p>That, Harry does have to agree with.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he allows. “I won’t mention it to Uncle Salazar, don’t worry. But… I guess I’m not happy with Uncle Vernon for whatever he said – Uncle Salazar seemed really hurt, and… looking back, he wasn’t quite himself, I think, even over Yule. So maybe it’s best if the way we’ve been writing letters lately stays the same?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dudley confirms, nodding, and Harry can’t ignore that he sounds relieved at that suggestion. “Okay. I do love you, though, Haz. Just in case you…”</p>
<p>“I love you too, Dud,” Harry tells his cousin firmly, not needing to hear the rest of that sentence. “Just don’t keep me in the dark again, yeah? I don’t like it.”</p>
<p>“Typical Ravenclaw,” Dudley teases with a grin.</p>
<p>“You’re just jealous,” Harry retorts. “Me with my blue and gold robes…”</p>
<p>“Yellow and black is <em>far</em> superior, Haz…”</p>
<p>Having the conversation doesn’t exactly change the situation, Harry thinks, but it gets him and Dudley on the same page, speaking easily again without any invisible walls between them, and Dudley stops reacting weirdly whenever Harry mentions Uncle Salazar – or maybe it’s just that Harry understands his reactions, so they no longer seem so weird. Whatever the case, it takes a whole lot of stress that Harry hadn’t realised the situation was causing him away and for that, he’s grateful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In February, he brews a potion in one of his evening sessions for the first time. It’s so much better than it was when he made it in class; he can’t help but beam all through Professor Snape’s feedback, good and bad – especially when he realises that the man looks quite pleased himself – and really, the list of improvements isn’t that long. The next week, he brews it again, trying his best to remember the recipe with some logic to work out the steps that he has less of a grasp on, and to his delight, it turns out better than the one from the week before; he tried to remember the feedback Professor Snape gave him, and apparently it has paid off.</p>
<p>“Next week, we will meet in the Entrance Hall at seven thirty,” Professor Snape tells him at the end, while Harry is cleaning his equipment carefully and packing it all up – it’s best to do it by hand, because residual magic can interfere with potions – and it doesn’t escape Harry’s notice that the professor is once more perched in his seemingly favourite spot on the edge of his desk, hands folded neatly in his lap. “Wear suitable clothing and bring along dragon-hide gloves. You will not need your cauldron, but you <em>must </em>have your wand, understood?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Sir,” Harry replies, still grinning, and Professor Snape’s lips twitch ever so slightly. “Should I bring anything for storage, Sir?”</p>
<p>“I will sort that out,” Professor Snape assures him firmly. “See yourself out, Mr Potter.”</p>
<p>With that, he disappears into his office, and Harry is left to gape after him, elated with the realisation that Professor Snape <em>trusts</em> him enough to leave him alone in the classroom, even if only for a matter of minutes. As he packs up the last of his things, his hands shake with excitement and, as per usual, there’s a little bounce in his step when he leaves the room – but perhaps it’s slightly more pronounced today.</p>
<p>“Someone’s happy,” Terry observes when he arrives back at the common room, smiling kindly and patting the cushion beside himself; Harry drops down into the indicated seat with a grateful nod.</p>
<p>“Yeah, just…” he trails off, shrugging, and searches for a way to explain his good mood; it would be easy to pin it all on the potion-making, but really, it’s so much more than that, so in the end, he settles for, “Things are going well.”</p>
<p>He feels content, to tell the truth. He has friends, he has a good exercise routine, he’s learning <em>so much</em>, and it doesn’t seem as though anything could possibly go wrong.</p>
<p>Of course, he’s proven wrong in a matter of days.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When it comes on Saturday morning, he’s sitting in the common room after his run, laughing with Terry, Padma and Tony (as Anthony has decided he prefers to go by) while Mandy and Lisa try increasingly ridiculous tactics in an effort to best one another at Chess. Harry is fairly certain that they’re both playing it up for the sake of their audience, but it’s entertaining nonetheless, especially with Oliver’s ongoing commentary to accompany it.</p>
<p>“Mr Potter!” comes the squeak from the doorway, making Harry jump and almost fall off the arm of the chair he’s been balanced on; Terry saves him with a hand on his shoulder, allowing him to steady himself before hopping off and turning to face his Head of House. “Could you come with me, please?”</p>
<p>Uncertain, Harry shares a glance with his housemates and gets only shrugs and blank stares. Professor Flitwick, he decides, doesn’t really seem <em>upset</em> or anything, so perhaps it won’t be anything bad.</p>
<p>“Of course, Sir,” he agrees carefully, picking his way through the common room to the entrance and following Professor Flitwick out.</p>
<p>For a few minutes, Harry waits for Professor Flitwick to tell him what the problem is or what he’s needed for, but the diminutive man stays silent, merely hurrying along at a pace that Harry is surprised to find he actually needs to put effort in to keep up with so, eventually, he opens his mouth.</p>
<p>“Sir, where are we going?”</p>
<p>“Hmm?” Professor Flitwick enquires, glancing up at him, and blinks in surprise, apparently having been lost in thought. “Oh! Yes – my apologies, Mr Potter. We’re going the Headmaster’s Office.”</p>
<p>Harry stops dead in his tracks, throat working silently for several seconds. ‘Headmaster’ equals Dumbledore, and that does <em>not</em> seem like a good prospect in the slightest.</p>
<p>“What?” he manages finally, hoping he might have misheard.</p>
<p>“The Headmaster’s Office,” Professor Flitwick repeats. “Come along, now, Mr Potter – we haven’t got all day.”</p>
<p>Harry doesn’t move. His hair is still damp from his post-run shower, and the air around him is cool, but he’s pretty sure that’s not why he suddenly feels cold, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end.</p>
<p>“Why?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Professor Dumbledore wants to have a chat,” Professor Flitwick tells him, then must read the panic in Harry’s expression, because he softens, impatience fading. “You’re not in trouble, Mr Potter. It’s just a little check-up.”</p>
<p>Blankly, Harry shakes his head. For a moment, he can’t summon an explanation to go alongside it – that man left him on a <em>doorstep</em> in <em>autumn</em>, and he nearly <em>died</em> – and Professor Flitwick’s brow creases in what seems to be a mixture of concern and confusion.</p>
<p>“Come on, there’s nothing wrong. The Headmaster’s a busy man, though, so let’s not keep him waiting, hmm?”</p>
<p>Right, he needs to offer more than just a refusal. He needs to give a reason for why he doesn’t want to see the man who stole from him for nearly eight years, and locked his parents’ wills away, and…</p>
<p>“I can’t,” he tells his Head of House, throat a little dry when he swallows in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat; Professor Flitwick sighs.</p>
<p>“Why ever not, Mr Potter?”</p>
<p>“Because – Because…” <em>Oh, what did Uncle Salazar say to tell anyone?</em> “My Lord doesn’t want me to talk to the Light Lord without my Lord present.”</p>
<p>For several seconds, Professor Flitwick stares at him in silence, then the man nods, accepting the words without any further thought.</p>
<p>“Very well, Mr Potter – I’ll let Professor Dumbledore know. You run along back to your friends, now.”</p>
<p>Harry <em>does</em> go straight back to Ravenclaw Tower, but not to re-join his friends. Instead, he heads up to the dormitory for some parchment and a quill, scrawls out a quick letter to Uncle Salazar, and hurries all the way back down to the Owlery. It’s not entirely urgent enough to contact his uncle via the mirrors, but he does think he should let Uncle Salazar know that it happened in reasonable time. Even if it doesn’t happen again, Uncle Salazar should be aware, but really, Harry doesn’t think this will be the end of it all.</p>
<p>This time, unfortunately, his predictive powers are much more on point. Professor Snape meets him in the Entrance Hall on Monday, a dark scowl on the man’s face and a small slip of parchment pinched in his fingers, and Harry knows instantly that something is wrong, even before Professor Snape opens his mouth.</p>
<p>“The Headmaster has requested your presence,” Professor Snape bites out, eyes blazing with silent aggrievance, and Harry blinks, before the words register and a frown of his own falls across his face.</p>
<p>“When, Sir?” he asks, although he has a very horrible inkling that the reply will be ‘now’, because he can’t see why else Professor Snape would seem so irritated by the message.</p>
<p>The Potions Master does not disappoint.</p>
<p>Frustrated, Harry closes his eyes, draws in a deep breath and lets it out to compose himself, then opens his eyes once more and lifts his head to meet Professor Snape’s eyes. Why can’t the old goat just leave him alone?</p>
<p>“Well, that’s fine, Sir, because I won’t be going,” he announces calmly, Professor Snape’s eyebrows rising in silent, incredulous question. “My Lord doesn’t want me to talk to the Light Lord without my Lord present.”</p>
<p><em>At this rate, those words are going to become second nature</em>, Harry thinks – though he very much hopes it doesn’t come to that. Dumbledore honestly just needs to get the hint that Harry isn’t about to bend to his schemes and move on before Uncle Salazar gets angry enough with him to lodge a formal complaint and petition for his removal from the school, which is what he believes his uncle’s current plan of action to be if the issues continue.</p>
<p>As Professor Flitwick had, Professor Snape watches him in silence for several seconds, then the man turns towards the castle exit with a curt nod.</p>
<p>“In that case, Mr Potter, we have ingredients to collect and prepare, and we’ve wasted rather enough time already.”</p>
<p>Pleased, Harry follows him out of the large double doors. Collecting and preparing ingredients sounds like a <em>much</em> better use of his time than whatever rubbish Dumbledore can come up with to try and harm Harry or his loved ones.</p>
<p>By the end of the evening, he’s all but forgotten his earlier irritation with Dumbledore – though not so completely that he doesn’t send off another letter to Uncle Salazar, detailing the latest in the situation – and he falls asleep dreaming of cauldrons and the sight of white Moly petals gleaming against the darkness of their stems, dappled with frost and a few brave streaks of moonlight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s letter returns the very next morning, courtesy of an exhausted Hedwig. Stroking her ruffled feathers gently, Harry whispers his gratitude and takes some extra bacon to feed her, promising to carry her up to the Owlery before his classes. While she busies herself with her treats, apparently satisfied with his ‘apology’ for putting her through so much, Harry turns his attention to what Uncle Salazar has written.</p>
<p>
  <em>Dear Harry,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I am concerned by what you have told me and, to ensure that you remain safe, I fear that we may have to take action ourselves against this before it reaches a head. As such, I will be bringing this issue to the attention of the Board of Governors, who should of course be aware that the Headmaster is harassing students. In the meantime, try to stay close to other people, keep your mirror and your wand on you at all times, and should the Headmaster approach, walk in the other direction and contact me instantly. Under no circumstances should you meet his eyes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>If he follows you, I would suggest keeping well in sight of as many people as possible, or even seeking out another professor – Professor Snape might be your best option, from everything you’ve told me. If he cannot be avoided or dissuaded, however, I will come to Hogwarts and he can have his meeting, though I will of course make my displeasure clearly and publicly known, perhaps through The Prophet.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Stay safe and much love,<br/>S</em>
</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar never signs his full name in his letters to Harry, preferring to stick to a single ‘S’, and Harry addresses his own letters in the same manner, whispering Uncle Salazar’s name to Hedwig when he sends her off. It’s one of many things that his uncle does to keep his return unnoticed by the larger magical community, in case anyone might happen to try reading Harry’s mail, and so for him to suggest that he might go to The Prophet – thereby making his identity and presence in Magical Britain known – means a lot to Harry.</p>
<p>Still, sticking close to someone at all times seems tiresome and very much inconvenient to maintain. He’ll do his best, of course, because Uncle Salazar undoubtedly knows what he’s talking about, but he’s not sure how long he can keep it up. Best to start on the right foot, though, so with a sigh, he glances to Hedwig and then up and around at his housemates. None of them appear ready to leave but, looking across the Great Hall, he spots Hermione rising from her seat and quickly lifts Hedwig and his letter, hurrying across to meet her on the way out of the Great Hall.</p>
<p>“Listen, Hermione… My uncle doesn’t really want me walking the castle alone at the moment, so would you be willing to come to the Owlery and then up to the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, by any chance?”</p>
<p>Clearly both surprised and bemused, she blinks at him in silence and waits only until they’re past the doors and out of sight of the Great Hall to stop and frown.</p>
<p>“Why does your uncle not want you alone?”</p>
<p>Sighing, Harry braces himself to explain the situation to her, then freezes when he spots a flash of mauve, peering over at the entrance to the Great Hall to spot Dumbledore leaving – and heading straight for them.</p>
<p>“Never mind that for now,” he tells her quickly, “We <em>really</em> need to go. I’ll tell you on the way, just… Please?”</p>
<p>Hermione stares at him for a moment, chewing her lip as Harry waits anxiously, then relents with a sigh.</p>
<p>“Alright.”</p>
<p>“Great!” Harry breathes, relieved, and grabs her hand to tug her towards the stairs, away from the approaching Headmaster.</p>
<p>“Mr Potter!” the man calls behind him, but he ignores his name and continues, Hermione only faltering for a beat before copying his pretence of not hearing.</p>
<p>“So… Basically,” Harry pants out as they take the stairs two at a time, “Dumbledore screwed around with my family before my uncle returned and discovered I existed, which I think I told you some of…? And he left me on a doorstep in late October – well, early November – when I was a baby. I almost died. We’re pretty certain he has bad intentions, and now he’s been trying to hold meetings with me. My uncle’s always said that we – me and Dudley – should refuse to talk to him without my uncle present, but he doesn’t seem to be getting the message, so now I’ve just got to avoid him, stay with someone else at all times, and get in contact with my uncle at once if I can’t shake him. Well…”</p>
<p>He pauses to take a breath, faintly aware that he’s either not as fit as he should be or Hedwig is heavier than he realised, which… yeah, it’s the second. Glancing back, he’s relieved to see no sign of Dumbledore, but only slows his pace a fraction as he continues.</p>
<p>“I’m actually meant to contact my uncle if he ever even tries to approach me,” he concludes, Hermione nodding along uncertainly, “But I don’t have the device I need for that on me at the moment; I need to go and get it from my trunk, then my uncle wants me to keep it with me at all times.”</p>
<p>Finally, they reach the Owlery, and Harry sucks in a lungful of air as he sets Hedwig down on a perch.</p>
<p>“To Ravenclaw Tower, then?” he offers, and Hermione hums a wordless agreement, seeming a little paler than she was five minutes ago despite their recent exertion.</p>
<p>Harry makes it all the way through to his last class of the day, when Professor McGonagall calls him back at the end of the lesson to speak to him, lips pursed and brow creased in a frown. Realising that at this rate, he’ll end up left alone, Harry reaches out to snag Neville’s wrist as the other boy makes for the door and tugs the letter from Uncle Salazar out of his pocket, showing Neville the ‘<em>try to stay close to other people</em>’ and mouthing a silent, ‘<em>please</em>’.</p>
<p>Eyes wide with worry and confusion, Neville nods and hovers by the door, watching in silence as Harry turns to Professor McGonagall.</p>
<p>“You wanted to speak to me, Professor?” he asks politely, and her frown only deepens, her eyes flickering to Neville after a second.</p>
<p>“Did you want something, Mr Longbottom?” she asks sharply, Neville freezing at once.</p>
<p>“Oh, we were going to go over some Potions homework together,” Harry rushes to tell her, which, to be fair, is something that they do regularly during their study group sessions, and occasionally at other times. “It’s alright, Neville, just wait outside and I won’t be long.”</p>
<p>“Actually, Mr Potter, the Headmaster wishes to speak to you,” Professor McGonagall tells him. “Mr Longbottom, you may go.”</p>
<p>Sighing, Harry closes his eyes for a second and pushes down his irritation.</p>
<p>“My Lord doesn’t want me to talk to the Light Lord without my Lord present,” he tells her flatly, and can’t resist adding, “My Lord is starting to become concerned with his harassment.”</p>
<p>Taken aback, she studies him for a moment, seeming to assess him, then nods.</p>
<p>“And has the Headmaster been informed of this?” she asks, frowning once more when he nods.</p>
<p>“Professor Flitwick told him the first time, I’m fairly sure,” he explains, unsure what to make of the thinning of her lips; Dumbledore’s persistence is hardly <em>his</em> fault, after all.</p>
<p>“Very well,” she tells him, to his relief – perhaps the displeasure in her expression was aimed at Dumbledore rather than himself. “You may go, Mr Potter, Mr Longbottom. And five points each for inter-house collaboration on schoolwork.”</p>
<p>Pleased, Harry murmurs his thanks and slips out of the classroom with Neville, then pulls out his mirror with a sigh to contact Uncle Salazar for the second time that day. Neville watches him in curious silence, seeming to realise that he has things to do before he can explain everything that just happened; when Harry glances at him furtively, he takes the hint to look away as well.</p>
<p>“Salazar Potter,” Harry whispers to the mirror, quietly enough that Neville won’t be able to hear it, and as soon as his uncle appears, exclaims, “Uncle S!”</p>
<p>Understanding fills Uncle Salazar’s gaze, his chin lifting in acknowledgement when Harry tilts the mirror a little to show their company. The last thing either of them needs is for Neville to hear something that they don’t want anyone to know – namely Uncle Salazar’s identity.</p>
<p>“Is it Dumbledore again?” his uncle sighs without any verbal confirmation of the message which has passed between them. “…Haven’t you just had a lesson?”</p>
<p>“Professor McGonagall was ready to take me up to his office,” Harry sighs. “She let me go when I told her you didn’t want me talking to him alone.”</p>
<p>“Good…” Uncle Salazar replies, but he’s frowning, one hand stroking lightly over the chain of his amulet as he seems to think. “In that case, I’ll speak to Lord Malfoy this evening rather than tomorrow – the sooner the better, it would seem. Would you like to introduce me to your company?”</p>
<p>Nodding, Harry turns the mirror to include Neville again, nudging his friend to make it clear that it’s now alright to look.</p>
<p>“Uncle, this is Heir Longbottom,” he introduces formally. “Neville, this is my uncle, Lord Potter.”</p>
<p>Neville’s eyes widen at the title, his bow far deeper than the one he gave Harry, and Uncle Salazar responds with a slight incline of his head and a small smile.</p>
<p>“A pleasure, Heir Longbottom,” Uncle Salazar tells Neville smoothly.</p>
<p>“P – Please,” Neville stutters out, shooting an almost panicked glance in Harry’s direction, “Call m – me Neville.”</p>
<p>“Neville,” Uncle Salazar repeats, smile growing. “Of course. I would reciprocate, Neville, but I’m afraid that my first name is a rather… delicate topic. You are, however, more than welcome to call me ‘S’.”</p>
<p>“Alright, I – I’ll do that,” Neville agrees with an almost frantic nod.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Neville,” Uncle Salazar continues, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap, “How is school going?”</p>
<p>“It’s…” Neville hesitates. “It’s going okay. Harry’s been helping me with Potions and some of the other subjects, and I’m really enjoying Herbology.”</p>
<p>“That’s good to hear,” Uncle Salazar tells him warmly. “And how is home?”</p>
<p>Harry tries to keep his eyebrows on his forehead, within a few centimetres of his eyes, but it’s a struggle, and they inch up slowly as Neville blinks and struggles for a reply.</p>
<p>“I – I mean…”</p>
<p>Curious, Harry glances from Neville to his uncle and then back again, trying to work out why Uncle Salazar could <em>possibly</em> want to know something like that.</p>
<p>“Is your grandmother treating you well?” Uncle Salazar continues softly, and Neville’s eyes flicker to Harry before he nods jerkily. “I knew your parents, you know – they’d be very proud of you now.”</p>
<p>Neville’s eyes well with tears almost instantly, and when he stumbles out his gratitude, Uncle Salazar offers a sad smile, taking a moment before he continues.</p>
<p>“It would be lovely to meet you in person at some point, Neville. Do you think, perhaps, your grandmother would allow you to stay with Harry for a few nights sometime near Ostara?”</p>
<p>“I – I think so?” Neville squeaks, still a little choked; Uncle Salazar’s lips quirk up, but he merely nods.</p>
<p>“Then I’ll look forward to that. Both of you, take care of yourself – and Harry, contact me the second Dumbledore so much as twitches in your direction, understand? I love you.”</p>
<p>“Love you too, Uncle S,” Harry returns, somewhat distracted by the peculiarities of the conversation he’s just witnessed, and with that, Uncle Salazar disconnects, the mirror returning to its simple reflective nature once more as Neville rounds on him with wide eyes.</p>
<p>“There’s a Lord Potter?” he breathes, apparently incredulous. “Harry – what – who – no, don’t answer that; you can’t, of course… I didn’t think there’d be a Lord Potter until you came of age!”</p>
<p>“Well…” Harry shrugs, gesturing to the mirror, “Uncle S took up the title, as you now know – and I guess you’ll know a bit more about him in a few months.”</p>
<p>Neville seems to choke on his own breath at that, face paling.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe <em>Lord Potter</em> invited me to stay with you,” he whispers, and then his expression melts with utter panic. “What if I’ve offended him? What if I say something wrong? What if –”</p>
<p>“Neville, relax,” Harry soothes, reaching out to touch the other boy’s arms to both get his attention and ground him somewhat, the latter motive being only partially successful. “Uncle S isn’t the sort to get offended by something you do accidentally – and he wouldn’t have wanted to meet you in person if he disliked you. He’s just interested – and you’re my friend. He’s been talking about wanting to meet Hermione at some point, and he’s already met Draco…”</p>
<p>“I – I’m your friend?” Neville asks, the hope in his eyes almost heart-breaking to Harry in that second, as he realises that Neville hadn’t already thought that a given.</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe Uncle Salazar was right to ask after his home life.</em>
</p>
<p>“Of course!” Harry settles for exclaiming. “Right?”</p>
<p>Neville’s hurried nod has Harry smiling as they finally start to move again, towards the library to actually get some work done on their Potions homework, because really, why not?</p>
<p>After that, Neville starts hanging around with them more, quickly integrating himself into what Harry sees as a core group of four – and now five – closest friends. Sure, Harry has his Ravenclaw friends, Draco has Vincent and Gregory – though they have each other more so – and Dudley has his fellow ‘Puffs, but really, they seem to have joined together as one inter-house group, now spanning all four houses with the addition of Neville. Hermione, Dudley and Draco welcome Neville with open arms, seeming almost as surprised as Harry that Neville hadn’t already considered them his firm friends but not dwelling too long on the issue, and between the other four of them, Harry finds himself accompanied at all times.</p>
<p>On that note, to his relief, Dumbledore finally seems to have gotten the hint, settling back into his habit of watching Harry instead – though perhaps that’s more of a result of the Board of Governors breathing down his neck than out of any respect for Harry and his family.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the reprieve lasts for less than two weeks – twelve glorious, relaxing, Dumbledore-free days – before the old goat’s right back at it, approaching after an early breakfast on Sunday morning, when the majority of school doesn’t even seem to have woken yet. <em>Even worse</em>, thinks Harry as he looks around for an exit, Hermione and Neville hovering warily at his side, <em>he seems to have learnt from his previous attempts.</em></p>
<p>Seeing no other option, Harry whips out his mirror and murmurs his uncle’s name as quietly as possible, then whispers a quick instruction to Neville and Hermione not to make eye-contact – if Uncle Salazar thinks it’s a good idea for him, than it certainly won’t do them any harm either – and turns his back, not bothering to say anything but instead lifting the mirror to let his uncle see the situation.</p>
<p>“Mr Potter!” Dumbledore declares behind him, far too jovial and unconcerned for a man who has just broken multiple rules of etiquette – <em>and </em>cornered three students in an otherwise empty Entrance Hall. “I’ve been hoping to speak with you.”</p>
<p>To Harry’s relief, Uncle Salazar takes over instantly.</p>
<p>“I would have thought, <em>Lord Dumbledore</em>,” he begins, a sneer of utter disdain in his tone; in actuality, the Dumbledore Family isn’t noble in the slightest, rather more the opposite in character as well as station, and only Dumbledore’s status as the Light Lord earns him such a title, “That you might have had the respect not to speak to Heir Potter when it has been made quite clear that I do not wish for him to have contact with you, without being there myself.”</p>
<p>“Come now, friend,” Dumbledore chuckles, and Harry almost winces at the cold fury that flashes in Uncle Salazar’s eyes, “I am merely a concerned headmaster wishing to talk to his student.”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s lip curls.</p>
<p>“You have been warned against continuing to harass Heir Potter, Lord Dumbledore, and given your past actions towards Heir Potter, I find it hard to believe that you hold even the faintest <em>shred </em>of concern for him. I suggest you leave him be.”</p>
<p>“Now –” Dumbledore starts, apparently unwilling to take the hint, but is cut off almost instantly – only, to Harry’s surprise, it’s not by Uncle Salazar.</p>
<p>“Headmaster…” Professor Snape drawls, black robes whipping around him as he strides across the vacant Entrance Hall towards them. “What <em>are</em> you doing? I believe you were informed the other week of Lord Potter’s wishes regarding his Heir.”</p>
<p>“I am merely –”</p>
<p>Again, Dumbledore is cut off, but this time, it’s not by any voice, but instead by the deafening bang of the towering oaken double doors which form Hogwarts’ very last physical defence against intruders flying open at incredible speed to crash into the walls on either side. Harry, still not daring to turn and face Dumbledore, doesn’t see the event itself, but hears Hermione’s gasp and Neville’s muted whimper and, when he realises that the mirror is back to its neutral reflective state, twists slowly to see for himself what has happened.</p>
<p>Really, Uncle Salazar knows how to make a dramatic entrance; first he arrives back in this time with an incredible lightshow, and now here he stands, framed by the silver of the clouds at his back, cloak billowing in the early March winds, his wand laced loosely between the fingers of his right hand as his furious gaze burns right into Dumbledore.</p>
<p>(Oh, how Harry wishes that looks could kill…)</p>
<p>“Albus Dumbledore,” Uncle Salazar announces, stepping slowly into Hogwarts for what must, Harry realises distantly, be the first time in over a thousand years, “Lord of the Light. You have broken etiquette by speaking to my Heir against my wishes; you have disrespected myself and my family yet again. You want your meeting? You can <em>have </em>your fucking meeting.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't know if I mentioned this last Sunday, but has anyone else seen the news of the new sub species of pit viper discovered? It amused me rather a lot last week.</p>
<p>I might also take the time to offer a warning that, despite promising myself not to do any other writing until this is pretty much finished, I might <em>just</em> have started a new fic...? But to be fair, it did kind of release some of the desperate urge I have to write such a fic and eased the struggle I was in the midst of with this one, also ist Alles gut. </p>
<p>Hope you're all well, and as far, feel free to comment - any criticism, be it constructive or not, any nice words, any questions (though they may not necessarily be answered, depending on what might be given away). I do reply to every initial comment (eventually), but will sometimes leave you with the last word if you choose to reply again.</p>
<p>Edit: changed one rather key word after the mistake was pointed out to me...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a beat after Uncle Salazar has spoken, silence reigns. Harry holds his breath, gaze flickering from Dumbledore’s irritation and surprise to Uncle Salazar’s cold fury, and hopes that Dumbledore won’t <em>actually</em> want a meeting with Uncle Salazar as well as himself, because he doesn’t really fancy the idea of spending any more time in the old man’s company. Just when he’s starting to wonder if it might be a good plan to back away slowly while the stand-off continues, Dumbledore seems to gather himself, stepping away from Harry and his friends – thank Merlin – and towards Uncle Salazar instead.</p>
<p>“Now, Lord Potter,” he tries, hands spread placatingly, “I assure you that such an entrance was not necessary.”</p>
<p>“I felt it best to make haste,” Uncle Salazar returns smoothly, his silky tone not hiding the steel beneath, and a flick of the wand in his right hand has the doors drifting lazily closed. “My Heir is, after all, of deep importance to me, and as such, I take any threat to him <em>very</em> seriously.”</p>
<p>Harry bites back a grin, trying not to let his glee at Uncle Salazar going full power-show be seen on his face even as he takes the opportunity to slip away from Dumbledore with Hermione and Neville in tow, so that Professor Snape stands between them and the Headmaster.</p>
<p>“Threat?” Dumbledore enquires. “My dear Lord Potter, you have the situation mistaken. I was merely –”</p>
<p>“Cornering Harry and his friends without any other witnesses, yes,” Uncle Salazar fills in, icily unforgiving. “I saw.”</p>
<p>There’s a crowd, Harry realises, starting to gather – likely attracted by the noise of Uncle Salazar’s entrance. Probably, that was his uncle’s intention all along: to have as many people as possible gathering here, to see this confrontation.</p>
<p>“I shudder to think,” Uncle Salazar continues, “Of what would have happened, had Master Snape not seen the situation. Now, I seem to remember that you wished for a meeting with my Heir. Is that still necessary, or might I now turn my attention to notifying the Board of Governors – and perhaps the Aurors?”</p>
<p>“I assure you,” Dumbledore returns, seeming almost as calm and jovial as ever but in reality, Harry thinks, just hiding how flustered he is well, “Such actions are not –”</p>
<p>“Salazar Potter?”</p>
<p>It’s Madam Hooch who interrupts, eyes wide as she pushes her way through the now-thick crowd of students to stare at Uncle Salazar, and if the Entrance Hall had been quiet before, it is silent now.</p>
<p>“Salazar Potter, as I live and breathe – is that you?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar softens just enough to offer a polite smile and incline his head, seemingly well aware that there’s nothing he need do to fuel the flames of this revelation – and nothing he <em>can </em>do to quell them at all. The hall seems to light with whispers, which grow quickly to swamp the space with the buzz of gossip, and Harry scans the crowd quickly for Dudley, spotting his cousin standing with Draco not too far away. Relieved, he offers a shaky smile, Dudley reciprocating at once with worry clear in his eyes, and for a second, Harry considers simply walking over to join him, but that feels like too much of a risk right now.</p>
<p>“Harry,” Uncle Salazar interrupts his considerations gently, a hand on his shoulder as his uncle crouches before him to meet his eyes with a warm, concerned gaze, “Are you alright? And your friends?”</p>
<p>“We’re fine,” Harry assures him after recovering from the surprise of Uncle Salazar having crossed the Entrance Hall without him noticing and  shooting a quick glance at Hermione and Neville to ensure that his words are indeed accurate, then relaxes as Uncle Salazar leans forward to embrace him. “Do we… have to have that meeting still?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar glances over to where Dumbledore still stands, frowning at them both, and Harry follows his gaze warily, still not daring to meet the man’s eyes.</p>
<p>“I would hope not,” his uncle tells him. “I <em>will</em>, of course, be contacting both the Aurors and Lucius at some point today, to inform them of the situation, and I rather hope he’ll be too busy explaining himself to them – and then suitably dissuaded from trying such a stunt again.”</p>
<p>Relaxing, Harry nods and finds that he can’t meet Uncle Salazar’s eyes even as he struggles to swallow, his throat seeming to have closed up.</p>
<p>“Harry,” Uncle Salazar murmurs, hand tightening on his shoulder for the briefest of moments, “It’s alright – you’re allowed to feel uncomfortable, or worried, or even outright scared. This man has done bad things to you, even if you don’t remember them yourself; that certainly isn’t something that you just need to ignore.”</p>
<p>Nodding again, more jerkily this time, Harry feels both his eyes and cheeks burn, but forces himself to glance up and meet Uncle Salazar’s worried stare.</p>
<p>“Come on,” his uncle continues, standing. “I’ll get the Aurors in, and then you and your friends can… show me around.”</p>
<p>There’s a twitch to his lips as he finishes the words, and Harry can’t help a small grin of his own in response. As if Uncle Salazar would ever need showing around Hogwarts – never mind by Harry, who has only been here for a matter of months. Still, he nods his agreement and beckons Dudley and Draco over while Uncle Salazar conjures a small piece of parchment and a quill, apparently unaffected by the sensation of being the subject of what seems like an entire student body’s worth of stares and Dumbledore’s hidden frown, the Headmaster subtly barred from approaching by the other professors (Harry will have to find a way to show his gratitude at some point).</p>
<p>As soon as Dudley arrives, he tugs Harry into a hug, holding him close for several seconds before letting him go to look him over carefully. Harry meets Draco’s gaze and rolls his eyes fondly, getting a grin from the blond, though it’s clear that Draco, too, is concerned. Meanwhile, Uncle Salazar dictates his message to the hovering quill in a clear, concise tone then flicks his wand to fold it into a small aeroplane which soars away, before finally turning back to Harry, Hermione, Dudley, Neville and Draco.</p>
<p>“While the Aurors deal with this unpleasant business, would you care to show me around the grounds?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Harry agrees, more for his friends than for Uncle Salazar, who certainly already knows that Harry wants out of here as soon as possible.</p>
<p>“I’ve got homework that I really need to get finished,” Dudley announces, which Harry knows is a lie, because they completed the last of it together just yesterday evening.</p>
<p>All the same, he doesn’t call his cousin out on it – just takes quiet note of the soft defeat in Uncle Salazar’s gaze and wishes that Uncle Vernon were here for him to yell at for causing this.</p>
<p>“Draco, d’you want to get that History of Magic essay completed?” Dudley adds, which is certainly new, because it makes Hermione, Neville and Draco all just as aware as Harry that the excuse is a bogus one; there is no History of Magic essay.</p>
<p>For a moment, Draco hesitates, clearly torn between his curiosity surrounding Uncle Salazar and whatever he’d be doing with Dudley, which seems, from his reaction, to be something pre-arranged.</p>
<p>“Yes, probably best to get it done,” Draco agrees finally, dipping into a slight bow of deference to Uncle Salazar before taking his leave alongside Dudley.</p>
<p>“Well, I’d certainly fancy a walk,” Hermione offers eagerly, Harry pleased by the faint smile that flits its way across Uncle Salazar’s features. “Neville?”</p>
<p>Neville nods in silence, staring at Uncle Salazar with exactly the same wide eyes as he had the other week.</p>
<p>“Lead the way, then, Harry,” Uncle Salazar prompts with a smile, falling into step beside Harry as the four of them make their way to the doors; a small twitch of Uncle Salazar’s wand has them swinging open just enough to let them all slip out.</p>
<p>For some time, they walk in comfortable silence – between the two of them, at least – and simply take in the sprawling slopes, littered with growing stalks for the spring to come, while Neville and Hermione talk in hushed tones behind them. Harry is fairly sure that Uncle Salazar is listening just as intently as himself, if not more so, but the man gives no sign of it, instead making a show of admiring the landscape without a word and marvelling at the castle from the outside, just a hint of amusement curling at the edge of his smile.</p>
<p>“So, what’s got everyone so excited about Lord Potter?” Hermione asks as they go. “As soon as Madam Hooch said his name…”</p>
<p>“Salazar Potter is a bit of a legend,” Neville explains softly as Harry strains to listen in on whatever Neville has to say on the matter; ‘a bit of a legend’ is a <em>little</em> far, he thinks, unless Neville means it in the way that parents warn their children not to play around with unknown magic for fear of disappearing like Uncle Salazar did. “Harry’s father, James, had a twin – Salazar. He was as well-liked as James growing up, and they were practically inseparable – at least, that’s what Gran says – until they turned eleven, and James was accepted into Hogwarts. Salazar wasn’t. He had problems with his magic, but apparently a lot of the Lords and Ladies weren’t happy that he wasn’t accepted – that kind of thing had never stopped someone from attending before, or something.</p>
<p>“Anyway, the problems got worse, until one day, when him and James were teenagers, there was a big magical accident, and he just… disappeared. Was never seen again. No one knew where he went, if he was even alive, and the Potters mourned him for the rest of their lives – but they never stopped looking for him, either. They never gave up hope. Everyone else thought it was just wishful thinking – apparently not, I guess. I… It’s a big deal. If he weren’t around, there wouldn’t <em>be</em> a Lord Potter for the next six years, until Harry turns seventeen. That’s a <em>huge</em> political ambush to pull.”</p>
<p>“I’ll say,” Hermione huffs, apparently unsure of how else to respond. “He just… <em>disappeared</em>, though? Out of nowhere?”</p>
<p>“That’s what Gran says,” Neville confirms, sighing, and Harry can almost picture his shrug. “From what I’ve heard, he was at home with his parents, then there was a big flare of light, and when it let up… He just wasn’t there anymore.”</p>
<p>Finally deciding not to listen anymore, Harry turns his attention to Uncle Salazar instead, tilting his head in silent curiosity.</p>
<p>“How did you get here so quickly?” he asks quietly, and Uncle Salazar, who had been gazing off into the distance as though caught in whatever memories were sparked by Neville’s words, glances down to smile at him.</p>
<p>“I have a portkey which takes me straight to the entrance of Hogwarts,” his uncle offers softly. “As soon as I could do so without anyone seeing – which happened to be when Master Snape arrived and caught everyone’s attention for long enough – I took it.”</p>
<p>Harry hums, considering, then nods.</p>
<p>“You <em>do</em> know how to make a flashy entrance,” he observes, grinning when the comment startles a laugh from Uncle Salazar.</p>
<p>“What can I say – it’s a talent,” comes the amused reply. “You have your Potions, and I have my stunning entrances.”</p>
<p>Snorting dryly, because Uncle Salazar certainly has <em>far </em>more to him than ‘stunning entrances’ – a Potions Mastery of his own among such attributes, even if he doesn’t have the same passion for it as Harry or Professor Snape – Harry shakes his head, then glances quickly back towards Neville and Hermione.</p>
<p>“Are you going to want to talk to Neville at some point?” he asks, blinking when Uncle Salazar merely shrugs.</p>
<p>“I fully intend to talk to both Neville <em>and Hermione</em> today,” Uncle Salazar corrects, though he’s smiling as he says it – and clearly aware of Harry’s burning curiosity. “Don’t worry; I’ll explain it to you at some point, just not right at the minute.”</p>
<p>Deflating, Harry bites back a grumpy huff and rolls his eyes at his uncle’s smirk.</p>
<p>“I don’t suppose,” Uncle Salazar announces in a louder tone instead of continuing their hushed conversation, “That there’s somewhere we can sit and talk for a time?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Of course he knows that there’s a small courtyard a little way around the next corner.</em>
</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!” Hermione pipes up. “Just around that corner – there’s a small open courtyard. We could sit there for a while?”</p>
<p>“Wonderful,” Uncle Salazar declares. “Would you lead the way?”</p>
<p>Glancing at Harry as if to check that it’s okay, Hermione steps up to join them and, smooth as ever, Uncle Salazar drops back to wander along beside Neville. Harry doesn’t even attempt to listen in on the conversation that Uncle Salazar strikes up with his friend, knowing full-well that whatever it is, it will likely be both personal and something which Uncle Salazar would scold him for listening in to. Instead, he turns to Hermione, offering her a small smile in response to the mild concern in her gaze.</p>
<p>“How are <em>you </em>doing?” he asks her, earning a surprised look for his efforts before she snorts.</p>
<p>“Aren’t I meant to be asking you that?”</p>
<p>Shrugging, Harry glances away for a second to break eye-contact before turning back to her.</p>
<p>“Everyone’s checking how I am,” he points out. “I’m not the only one who got cornered by Dumbledore today.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Hermione murmurs, lifting her thumb apparently unconsciously to chew at the nail as she considers the question. “I suppose I’m a little shaken, but I’m alright. The Aurors will deal with it, won’t they? And he won’t do it again.”</p>
<p>“Hopefully,” Harry agrees, then blows out a breath, shaking his head. “I know Draco’s been teaching you a lot, but… How much do you know about what he did wrong?”</p>
<p>“I…” Hermione bites her lip. “He was warned that Lord Potter didn’t want you speaking to him alone, so he shouldn’t have approached you in the first place… He certainly shouldn’t have done it multiple times… He shouldn’t have dismissed Lord Potter saying it directly to him… And he shouldn’t have addressed Lord Potter as anything other than his title?”</p>
<p>Pleased, Harry nods in confirmation; his smile growing as she grins to herself, apparently happy to have got it all right. She’s coming along brilliantly, he thinks, in terms of learning their system. She’s taken to their traditions and politics like a duck to water, really, and he couldn’t be more proud to see how she’s adapted to her new environment and is now absolutely making the most of it.</p>
<p>“Next month,” he starts carefully, “Do you think you’d like to take part in Ostara with us?”</p>
<p>At once, she lights up, her grin growing to a beam as she nods eagerly.</p>
<p>“Can I?” she whispers. “That would be <em>wonderful</em>!”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Harry assures, returning her beam easily as his excitement flares with the prospect of introducing someone to yet another ritual, but after a moment, she frowns.</p>
<p>“I’ve been… doing some research of my own,” she starts slowly, glancing almost nervously away as they reach the courtyard, and waits until they’ve sat to continue speaking. “I found records of some festivals that <em>would </em>have passed – only you didn’t celebrate them.”</p>
<p>“Imbolc and Mabon?” Harry asks, sighing, and nods. “They were banned by the Ministry at various points over the last ten years, along with Lughnasadh. I’ve never had a chance to perform them myself.”</p>
<p>“Why?” Hermione demands at once. “What’s wrong with them? I read about them – they aren’t <em>bad</em> or…”</p>
<p>“Stupid reasons,” Harry tells her honestly – although maybe he <em>is</em> a little biased. “Imbolc was because they didn’t like the idea of ‘new life’ – said it promoted necromancy. Lughnasadh was… honestly, I don’t even <em>know</em> why. I don’t think they gave a reason, just… did it. It came after Imbolc and Mabon – that was done because they decided that if Ostara celebrates light rising to overcome dark, then Mabon must celebrate the opposite, and that implied we were celebrating the triumph of Dark Magic, and let’s not even get started on <em>that</em>… I’ll explain that one to you another time, yeah? I mean, I say that’s <em>why</em> they did it, but it’s not. They did it because they want to get rid of our traditions, and those were the best excuses that they had.”</p>
<p>Realising that he definitely <em>has </em>allowed his biases to get in the way of his explanation, he hurries to clarify his words.</p>
<p>“I mean, most of them probably believe it to a degree, but it’s also become a bit of a giant turf war at this point – they just think the Dark’s evil for some weird reason, so they combat everything that the Dark strives for out of fear and distrust.”</p>
<p>Hermione stares at him, eyes wide.</p>
<p>“But that’s <em>terrible</em>,” she whispers. “Are they going to keep doing it?”</p>
<p>“Well…” Harry shrugs. “They were due another one sometime last year, at the rate they were going, but I’m pretty sure Dumbledore was using my seats – which he shouldn’t have had – to get the motions through the Wizengamot, and now that Uncle Salazar has them, he’s fighting back. I think there’s talk of getting those original votes over-turned at some point, because they weren’t won legitimately… So hopefully it can be reversed. But for now, they managed to ban a much less common ritual, which only a few families do, instead. So they haven’t really <em>stopped</em>, yet.”</p>
<p>Turning away, Hermione shakes her head in silent indignation, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists in her lap, and Harry almost regrets telling her, but she deserves to know the situation that they’re all in.</p>
<p>“How dare they?” she sniffs. “One day, I –”</p>
<p>She stops, shaking her head, and glances back to Harry.</p>
<p>“I just… I know it’s stupid,” she whispers, “But I wish <em>I</em> could go against them. All these traditions that I’m learning, and that have been part of your families for centuries, and now they’re taking them away from you, and from people like me, who won’t ever get a chance to learn it.”</p>
<p>Harry hadn’t really thought of that; he can only nod, silent, as she sniffs again and wipes at her eyes, wishing that there were more he could do to comfort her.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Uncle Salazar cuts in softly from above them, Harry glancing up to find that the conversation with Neville has apparently finished, “I might be able to help with that. Miss Granger, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”</p>
<p>“L – Lord Potter,” Hermione manages a little wetly, stumbling to her feet to bow and take the offered hand. “Please, call me Hermione.”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s smile is soft and kind.</p>
<p>“Of course, Hermione. And please, feel free to call me Salazar.”</p>
<p>“Harry,” Neville murmurs as they start their walk once more, Hermione and Uncle Salazar falling into conversation ahead of them, “Can we talk?”</p>
<p>Surprised, Harry twists to look at his friend, but nods all the same.</p>
<p>“Sure,” he agrees. “What’s up?”</p>
<p>“I…” Neville fidgets, fingers twisting anxiously, then draws in a deep breath and lets it out. “Your uncle said something just now… about not being able to teach you everything you should know about our culture. He said there were things he’d agreed not to tell you, and he doesn’t think it’s right to wait a few years until he’s in a position where he doesn’t have to stick to that. So… He asked me if I could tell you, and then if you go to him with any questions, it’s not really like he <em>told </em>you about it.”</p>
<p>Already, Harry can see all the reasoning behind Uncle Salazar’s decisions. He doesn’t want to leave gaps in Harry’s knowledge, but for whatever reason – a reason that Harry will have to find out, though perhaps learning <em>what</em> the information is will help with that – he can’t teach it to Harry himself. His next step, clearly, is to get someone else to do it, and it probably comes down to either Neville or Draco, with them being Harry’s closest pureblood friends. Between Neville or Draco, Neville’s the far better option, because firstly, he doesn’t tell his gran everything like Draco with his father, and secondly, the Longbottom Family is far less likely to take such a weakness as something to prey on.</p>
<p>Either that, or Uncle Salazar just saw an opportunity and took it, but Harry somewhat doubts it; it’s not the man’s style.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he agrees quietly. “Is it just one thing, or…?”</p>
<p>“Just the one, really,” Neville shrugs. “The thing is… I know muggles can be pretty against this, so you might be fairly surprised.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Perhaps, then, it was Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia who told Uncle Salazar not to bring it up.</em>
</p>
<p>“In our culture – at least, in our traditional culture – we accept all sexualities, romantic orientations, genders, whatever else. Who someone is, and who they like in what way… That’s just part of who they are, and why get in the way of that? It’s not hurting you, and why get in the way of love?”</p>
<p>Bemused, Harry can only squint at Neville as he tries to work through what his friend is telling him. Could Neville <em>actually</em> be suggesting…?</p>
<p>“It’s alright to be gay?” he asks, just a little incredulous, and Neville nods at once.</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” he replies. “Or somewhere in between, or not attracted to anyone at all, or anything else whatsoever.”</p>
<p>Harry pauses briefly in his gait to consider the idea, rocking back on his heels. He supposes it makes sense that Uncle Vernon wouldn’t want Uncle Salazar to tell him that, because really, it’s…</p>
<p>Well, whatever he was going to finish that thought with doesn’t exactly apply anymore, he realises as he starts walking again. <em>Uncle Vernon</em> thinks it’s wrong and sinful, but now Harry thinks about it, those ideas come mostly from Christian values that Harry doesn’t hold to, and Neville’s right; it doesn’t hurt him, or anyone else, as long as it’s all safe and consensual – and why wouldn’t it be?</p>
<p>There’s just one question.</p>
<p>“Why would Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon <em>know</em> to tell Uncle Salazar not to mention it?” he asks, more to himself than anyone else, and is surprised when Neville offers an answer.</p>
<p>“Maybe they know that your uncle’s gay?”</p>
<p>Yet again, Harry stops walking, Neville waiting patiently at his side while his mind stutters through those words at a crawl, incredulity building inside him.</p>
<p>“He’s <em>what</em>?” he blurts out, but already, it all makes sense.</p>
<p>That argument over Yule, Uncle Vernon telling Dudley to keep his distance, the fact Uncle Salazar has not once mentioned his supposed lover and has never shown an inkling of interest in any woman that Harry’s seen.</p>
<p>“Oh, Merlin,” he whispers to himself. “He <em>is</em>… Wow. Alright. That’s new.”</p>
<p>Neville, he realises, is watching him a little nervously.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Harry,” his friend offers. “It didn’t occur to me that of course you wouldn’t have realised…”</p>
<p>“That’s fine,” Harry dismisses easily, turning a speculative gaze on his uncle’s back as the information settles back into his mind. “Everything makes so much more sense, now. Was there anything else you needed to tell me?”</p>
<p>“Er…” Neville bites his lip, seeming to think through the question. “I mean, you certainly won’t <em>need </em>to know this for a while, if ever, but… Marriage between two people of the same sex is unusual, because of the lack of heirs, but not unheard of, and there are certain rituals which <em>can</em> be done, as long as someone’s willing to carry the baby, to produce an heir with blood relations to both parents – though there are non-magical alternatives. Like, you could marry someone of the opposite sex for political purposes, but it could be part of the arrangement that you get to see other people outside of the marriage. It’s unfortunately another one of those things that the Light is pushing against.”</p>
<p>A little confused, Harry frowns.</p>
<p>“Neville, isn’t <em>your</em> family Light?”</p>
<p>Obviously uncomfortable, Neville shifts and glances away.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he admits, “But I think Gran’s a little put-off by some of the things that the Light’s been pushing for lately, and honestly, I’m even less comfortable with it all. It’s not meant to be so… one-sided – which you know, obviously – and they’re really taking it a bit too far. It’s like they’re trying to thwart the Dark more than push for Light objectives, which seems like a stupid thing to do.”</p>
<p>Quietly considering, Harry nods and, with a start, realising that they haven’t started walking again, Hermione and Uncle Salazar now stopped some way ahead to wait patiently for them to catch up.</p>
<p>“Fair enough,” he settles for, shrugging, and nudges Neville towards Uncle Salazar and their friend. “Thanks for telling me, but should we catch up?”</p>
<p>When the four of them are joined up as a group once more, Uncle Salazar falls into step at Harry’s side, not speaking, just waiting in silence while Harry tries to work out what to say. He needs to say <em>something</em>, he thinks, but… he’s not sure what.</p>
<p>“You’re gay?” is what eventually falls out of his mouth without him wanting it to, but luckily, it startles a laugh from his uncle, which is probably the best result he could have hoped for.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Uncle Salazar confirms easily. “Vernon and Petunia – Vernon particularly – are not so happy with the idea, unfortunately.”</p>
<p>“I gathered that,” Harry agrees, cocking his head in interest. “Did you have a male partner back in the…” he waves vaguely to avoid having to announce the words aloud, “Or did Aunt Petunia make that up altogether?”</p>
<p>Sighing, Uncle Salazar looks away for a second, his hand falling to a thin metal band which has sat around his wrist for as long as Harry can remember. It glints innocently in the soft sunlight of early March, engravings crisply exquisite, carrying more detail than Harry thinks he could ever hope to take in.</p>
<p>“Godric,” is all his uncle says.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Harry mutters, and can’t think of anything else to say, because not only is it flipping his world-view a little, but it’s clearly still a very raw subject for Uncle Salazar, which really isn’t that surprising; eventually, he manages to come up with, “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s smile is quiet and sad, his gaze tracking elsewhere for some time before he takes a deep breath and shakes his head.</p>
<p>“I am… making my peace with it,” he tells Harry, voice a little thick, and that, apparently, is that.</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar leaves after another hour, having hovered to make sure that Dumbledore got the message, and Harry takes the rest of the morning to consider his newfound knowledge, wondering if there is anything that he might be able to do to help his uncle. He doesn’t so much like the idea of Uncle Salazar mourning his lover in silence for the rest of his life – well, he doesn’t like seeing his uncle suffer at all, but there’s not exactly much he can do about it right now, and even if there were something to be done, he rather doubts it would be an easy fix.</p>
<p>In the afternoon, he shakes the thoughts away for the time being to focus on his fractions and helping Neville with Potions. He’s recently started linking it to Herbology, and Neville seems to have made great progress since, coming on leaps and bounds when he can connect everything that he does to what he knows about the plants involved. Of course, it doesn’t really help with all the ingredients and steps which aren’t purely plant-based, but it’s a start, and hopefully, making that bit easier will have a knock-on effect for the rest of the recipes.</p>
<p>It’s only in bed that evening that he remembers about Dudley and Draco, who he’s fairly sure are doing something secretly which may or may not be dangerous, but he falls asleep mere minutes afterwards, and the thought is forgotten once more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Monday is a far more relaxing day than Sunday had been. Despite his professors’ apparent intentions to go to Azkaban for ‘murder by crushing beneath schoolwork’, they all seem a little nicer to him today, as though they’re trying to make up for Dumbledore’s actions – whether just yesterday or over the last few weeks in general, he isn’t sure, but it doesn’t matter – and he earns a good twenty house points by the end of the school day. Even better, though, is Professor Snape’s approving nod when Harry finishes collecting the ingredients, preparing them, <em>and</em> brewing the potion that they’ve been working on all in one night.</p>
<p>“Better than last week, Mr Potter,” the Potions Master declares, examining it closely. “<em>Far </em>better than last week. Very well.”</p>
<p>Harry holds his breath, heart pounding in his throat as he waits for Professor Snape’s verdict.</p>
<p>“Next week,” Professor Snape begins slowly, tone as low and smooth as ever but somehow, just a little bit warmer, “We will move on.”</p>
<p>Harry is fully aware of the almost disbelieving grin that spreads across his face, but he’s far too delighted to be able to press it down, and Professor Snape seems almost amused by his reaction, watching in silence as Harry starts to clear away then holding out a hand when he moves to clear up his cauldron.</p>
<p>“Bottle the potion first, Mr Potter,” he tells Harry. “No reason to waste it; I’ll take it down to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow.”</p>
<p>That could well be the greatest praise that Harry has ever had in his life; he hadn’t thought his beam could grow any further, but now, it seems almost as though it’s about to stretch off his face altogether. Not only does Professor Snape approve of his potion enough to move on – <em>he said he’d only move on once it was perfect</em> – but he’s actually willing to keep it and <em>use</em> it? On other students?</p>
<p>Ecstatic doesn’t even <em>begin</em> to cut it.</p>
<p>Once the potion has been carefully bottled and stored away, Harry returns to cleaning his equipment and workspace under Professor Snape’s watchful eye, wiping down every blade, both the inside and outside of his cauldron, every square inch of the desk, each nook and cranny from every single piece of equipment, and every other surface imaginable.</p>
<p>“I had an interesting conversation with your uncle yesterday, Mr Potter,” Professor Snape tells him after a good five minutes of silent cleaning, Harry blinking in surprise with the realisation that Uncle Salazar must have stayed at least a little longer than he’d realised before heading home. “Next week, we will discuss it before brewing.”</p>
<p>Confused, Harry nods his agreement and tries to work out what Uncle Salazar could possibly have had to say to Professor Snape – never mind what Professor Snape might then want to discuss with him. Unfortunately, Professor Snape doesn’t seem to have anything more to say on the matter for the time being, apparently content to let Harry stew in his own curiosity for the next week, which is mildly frustrating, until Harry returns his attention to his task and remembers that he just brewed a potion which <em>Potions Master Severus Snape</em> had no criticism of.</p>
<p>Forget whatever Uncle Salazar is playing at now; life cannot get any better than this. No way. Ever.</p>
<p>It’s on the way back to Ravenclaw Tower that Harry catches sight of Professor Quirrell’s turban disappearing around a corner ahead of him – a corner which leads directly to the forbidden third-floor corridor. For a moment, Harry hesitates, knowing that he should really just do the safe option and head up to bed, but if Professor Quirrell’s about to go in, then maybe, he could get the quickest of peaks in at the Philosopher’s Stone, and what a chance<em> that</em> would be.</p>
<p>Mind made up, he follows as quietly as possible, peering around the corner that Professor Quirrell had disappeared behind only to slump in disappointment when he realises that the man has already slipped through the large double doors that block off the corridor from student access. As he’s about to creep away, however, he catches a muffled barking and snarling from within, and then Professor Quirrell stumbles back out, cursing viciously and slamming the door shut behind himself, seeming nothing like the stuttering, quivering professor whom Harry is used to. Still, he can’t dwell on it, because if he doesn’t move quickly, then he’ll be spotted; it’s only when he’s halfway up the spiral staircase leading to the Ravenclaw common room that he realises that perhaps Professor Quirrell’s intentions were less than good when he entered that place.</p>
<p>Perhaps, Professor Quirrell is after the Stone. Perhaps, even, the stutter is merely a façade to aid him in that mission – and wouldn’t <em>that</em> be a thought? A ridiculous, stupid thought which would only ever occur for <em>real</em> in a fiction book, but what a thought, nonetheless.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! As ever, I hope you are all well and that, for those for whom it is applicable, you had a good time celebrating VE Day yesterday. I've never had a street party from the safety of my own garden before, but I have to say that I quite enjoyed it. I might have to look at making it the convention for street parties where my own involvement is concerned...</p>
<p>Anyway, I started reading a ridiculously pretentious fic the other day; the whole premise was basically that Gryffindors are better Slytherins - and I don't mean that they were presented as having better values or a better approach to life, but that they were literally *better versions of cunning, sly, ambitious Slytherins*. I had to bail before I gave in to the temptation to throw my phone across the room - which would have been tragic, as I'm rather fond of my phone, and it has served me well over many years.</p>
<p>But regardless. Please do enjoy, or if not, let me know what wasn't so great! As ever, I live on feedback, positive or otherwise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Throughout the next week, Harry mulls over his potential realisation in silence, unable to stop himself from watching Quirrell closely, just in case he can catch the smallest slip in the man’s pretence, but nothing comes. Instead, Harry finds himself increasingly aware of the time Dudley is spending with just Draco, apparently working on something that neither feel the need to share with Harry, Hermione or Neville. Every evening, it seems, they sneak off to the library after dinner, and really, Harry would never have noticed if Dudley didn’t seem quite so furtive about it all; eventually, he has to follow, his curiosity getting the better of himself as he slips quietly up the staircase amid a crowd of students, keeping his gaze fixed on his cousin as constantly as possible.</p>
<p>In the library, he edges slowly along to the table he knows he’ll find them at, pretending to be looking for certain books as he shoots careful glances in the general direction of the pair to make sure that he hasn’t accidentally slipped into their view until finally, he realises that he’s never going to get close enough to them to hear without being seen.</p>
<p>Frustrated, he turns to make his way out of the library, catching a glimpse as he does so of the gamekeeper, whose name he can’t remember, standing with a book in hand. It’s an unusual enough sight – the man, half-giant, whatever he is, is rarely seen in the castle outside of mealtimes, never mind in the library – that Harry pauses, taking the time to peer at the book. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised that it’s about dragons; why would the gamekeeper be here for anything other than an animal of some species or another?</p>
<p>It <em>is</em>, admittedly, a little strange that he’d be reading a book specifically on the care of dragons, because there certainly aren’t any on Hogwarts grounds, but Harry shrugs the thought off and keeps walking. He agreed to go flying with Terry in ten minutes, after all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally, after a whole week of what feels like frustration after frustration, Harry makes it to Monday again. Over the last seven days, all he’s had are questions: about what Professor Snape wishes to discuss with him, about Quirrell’s stammer and intentions regarding the Stone, about what Draco and Dudley could possibly be discussing in the library… Even the gamekeeper’s interest in dragons has been playing on his mind and, for once, despite the fact that the teachers are indeed trying to murder them under mountains of homework, Harry finds himself wishing for more, just to offer a productive distraction. It’s not that there’s anything that he feels he needs to practice or squeeze in extra work for; he just wants something other than this endless circle of wondering without answers.</p>
<p>“Good evening, Mr Potter,” Professor Snape greets him, prompt at half past seven, and Harry returns the sentiment politely, glancing into the classroom beyond in the hopes that something – <em>anything</em> – will offer him a clue as to what Professor Snape has to discuss. “Do come in.”</p>
<p>Harry enters and, when Professor Snape settles on the edge of his desk and tells him to sit, perches himself on one of the nearer tables, waiting to find out what Professor Snape wants to talk to him about.</p>
<p>“Your uncle came to me with a request last week, Mr Potter,” Professor Snape begins after a moment of silence, during which Harry had felt like one of the potions that he’s brewed over the last month, merely sitting and awaiting inspection. “He hoped that I might consider, in a few years’ time, teaching you another field of study, beyond potion-making. Now, this particular… branch of magic <em>can</em> be useful in the field of potion-making, but it is not something that I would consider teaching to someone unless I had taken them on as an apprentice. Your uncle wishes for you to study Mind Arts, Mr Potter, and that is certainly not something to be taken lightly.”</p>
<p>Swallowing, Harry nods. <em>Under no circumstances should you meet his eyes</em>, Uncle Salazar had told him when Dumbledore was still an active problem, and suddenly, Harry thinks he might know why.</p>
<p>“Usually, I would refuse such a request outright,” Professor Snape continues. “I believe your uncle half-expected that I would. You, however, are one of the few students I have taught who has displayed more than a fractional amount of brain power, and as such, over the next year or two, I am willing to consider the possibility of taking you on as an apprentice once you turn thirteen, should you wish to agree.”</p>
<p>Oh. <em>Oh</em>.</p>
<p>Really, Harry should have realised where this was going, but somehow, he was too stuck on the idea of Mind Arts in and of itself to make the link between Professor Snape only being willing to teach an apprentice and not outright rejecting Uncle Salazar. Probably, he should say something now, but any words he might have come up with likely wouldn’t have made it past the lump in his throat, in all honesty.</p>
<p>“Should you choose to decline, we shall continue these Monday sessions as normal. However, should you agree, then over the rest of this academic year, we will have a session on Fridays as well as Mondays. Assuming that all is well, that will increase to three next year, and then the year after, you will be thirteen and will become my apprentice. If at any time before that point, either of us decides that it would not be a wise decision to go ahead with the apprenticeship, then we will return to our usual Monday sessions only. Is that understood?”</p>
<p>Still speechless, Harry nods.</p>
<p>“Very well. If you do choose to take the second option, then the time until you turn thirteen can be considered a trial period. This will be when we can test if I would like to take you on as my apprentice, and if you would like to accept me as your master. As such, it would be most conducive not to act abnormally over that time.”</p>
<p>Finally, Harry finds his voice.</p>
<p>“Yes, Sir,” he agrees weakly, then, because Professor Snape seems to have finished what he has to say, draws in a deep breath and licks his lips in preparation. “I’d like to try that, Sir – the, uh, the trial, I mean. And hopefully the apprenticeship, of course, Sir. I mean –”</p>
<p>He cuts himself with the realisation that, in his shocked state, he’s started to ramble. Professor Snape, however, merely watches him with something akin to amusement in the man’s eyes before nodding.</p>
<p>“Very well. In that case, we will move onto brewing.”</p>
<p>Relieved, Harry nods and pulls out his cauldron, setting both it and his equipment up in preparation. It will be a few hours at least, he thinks, before the realisation sinks in that <em>Severus Snape</em> is considering taking <em>him</em> on as an <em>apprentice</em> – italics and all, because such thoughts need all the emphasis they can get. Certainly, though, he needs to put his mounting excitement to the side for the time being, because potion-making requires focus and concentrated calm.</p>
<p>It’s at the end of the session, when the potion is brewed and not quite perfect – Harry knows several things that he could have done better, and he relays them to Professor Snape himself before the man bothers to tell him something that he already knows, earning an approving nod – that he packs up as usual, heads for the door and then pauses.</p>
<p>“So… Entrance Hall on Friday?” he checks, to a firm nod, then can’t resist adding, “And does this mean I can ask you to call me Harry?”</p>
<p>It’s a joke, and the faintest of twists in Professor Snape’s lips shows that the man is fully aware of it, but still, Harry finds himself the subject of a considering stare before Professor Snape snorts dryly.</p>
<p>“Next year, Mr Potter,” the Potions Master tells him.</p>
<p>Well, that’s a better response than Harry could ever have expected – and with any luck, it will transpire to be a good omen for what’s to come. He’s about to leave, but then something else strikes him, the realisation that he should say something just in case leading him to hover a moment longer.</p>
<p>“Sir, the Philosopher’s Stone,” he starts carefully, almost regretting bringing it up when Professor Snape stiffens. “I… I think Professor Quirrell might be after it? I’m not sure he’s quite who he says he is.”</p>
<p>For some time, Professor Snape sits in silence, staring at Harry with no discernible emotion either on his face or in the black depths of his gaze.</p>
<p>“Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Mr Potter,” he replies finally, standing and dusting off his robes. “I will deal with this accordingly. In the meantime… Stay well away from the Stone – and from Quirrell, where you can.”</p>
<p>There’s nothing more for Harry to do besides nod and take his leave, heading back to Ravenclaw Tower with a growing bounce in his step as he realises that he may have not only landed a chance at an apprenticeship in potion-making, but with one of the world’s most renowned Potions Masters as well. This could be his entire future set just like that, as long as he doesn’t screw up – and as long as his interests don’t change drastically, though that’s <em>hardly</em> going to happen. The sheer prospect of what he could learn from such an opportunity is enough to have him skipping all the way up to the common room, a beam splitting his cheeks, and the external significance of such of an apprenticeship carries him all the way up to bed to slip under the covers and close his eyes without losing the spring in his step, his smile following him into sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next day, Harry’s first instinct is to tell Dudley, but then he realises that Dudley hasn’t been sharing much with him, so why should he share this with Dudley? He considers telling Hermione, Neville or Draco, but somehow, it feels like it would just be jinxing himself to mention it when there’s still so much that could go wrong. Instead, he bottles it up until he can write a letter to Uncle Salazar that evening, who undoubtedly already knew that it would be a possibility, and for some time after he’s finished, his quill hovers over his inkpot, another sheet of blank parchment in front of him as he prepares to write a letter to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but…</p>
<p><em>No</em>, he decides, <em>it’s best not to</em>. Really, he’s not sure they’d understand the significance of it, and Harry’s not in the mood to deal with their warnings to consider it carefully when they don’t even know what they’re talking about; he <em>knows</em> to think deeply on this before committing, and he has about a year and a half to iron out any problems or call it off. Honestly, he hasn’t entirely forgiven them for making Uncle Salazar hold back information, either. If they’re going to keep him in the dark then, just like with Dudley, he’ll do the same to them.</p>
<p>Honestly, he feels a little bit bad to be keeping things from them – he <em>does </em>love them, after all – but, he reckons, they deserve it.</p>
<p>His silence doesn’t stop him from bouncing through the entire day, of course, practically buzzing with excitement from head to toe, and it’s all he can do to keep a handle on himself by repeating, every other minute or so, that nothing is definite yet. Professor Snape might decide that he hates working one-to-one with Harry more than once a week; <em>Harry</em> might decide that he hates working one-to-one with Professor Snape more than once a week, as unlikely as that seems. Nothing is definite at all, but he has the <em>chance</em> – and thanks to Uncle Salazar at that; he’ll have to make sure he shows the man his gratitude properly at some point.</p>
<p>Over dinner, Terry watches him in amused silence, clearly aware of Harry’s mood but with no idea what could have caused it, and Harry doesn’t bother to explain, instead continuing to float through on his jittery high. At some point, he’ll take one of the school brooms out for a spin to burn off some energy, he thinks, or just run through a quick HIIT circuit in an unused classroom – something to calm him down a bit while still being productive. An abs set certainly seems like a good prospect, if he’s considering trying out for the Quidditch team next year; he’ll need all the core strength he can get.</p>
<p>On Wednesday, he wakes up early to get that workout and a shower in before breakfast, trotting down to the Great Hall promptly with damp hair and a smile still fixed on his face, but without the same desperate need to release his energy in any possible way. To his surprise, however, he’s met by Hermione outside the hall itself, and without a word, she hands him several slices of buttered toast, starting to walk towards the castle entrance with the clear expectation that he join her; he obliges at once, shoving one of the slices into his mouth to start devouring it in as few bites as possible. Alright, so he’s hungry. It’s to be expected.</p>
<p>“Draco’s teaching Dudley about the magical community,” Hermione tells him when they’re some way from the castle, wandering down towards the lake.</p>
<p>They’ve got plenty of time to get back up before their first class, so Harry didn’t protest the change of surroundings and chance for fresh air, which he’s glad of now, as he tilts his head to frown questioningly at Hermione.</p>
<p>“That’s what they’ve been doing together. You wanted to know, right?”</p>
<p>Blinking, Harry takes a second to clear his thoughts before realising that the answer is ‘yes’; he <em>did</em> want to know, but he won’t deny that it’s been a less pressing issue over the last day or so, even after he decided not to tell Dudley about the apprenticeship opportunity in retribution.</p>
<p>“Huh,” he manages, quietly considering. “I guess that makes sense.”</p>
<p>“Does it?” she returns at once. “I thought your uncle was teaching him all of that along with you.”</p>
<p>Slowly, Harry heaves a sigh, then shrugs as he searches for a quick explanation before deciding to simply settle for the truth.</p>
<p>“Uncle Vernon doesn’t like that Uncle Salazar’s gay – which I didn’t know until the other week, and I don’t think Dudley knows at all. He told Dudley to stay away from Uncle Salazar, and it’s just kind of… happened. Dudley’s keeping his distance, and…”</p>
<p>He shrugs again, not sure what else to say on the matter and unable to work out why Hermione’s still eyeing him with interest and concern both clear in her eyes.</p>
<p>“It’s bigger than that, isn’t it?” she asks him softly, elbow shifting to nudge him gently. “You’ve been a bit stiffer around him – and you’re not writing to your aunt and uncle so much.”</p>
<p>Taken aback, Harry struggles for a response. He had no idea that she might ever have paid enough attention to his letter-writing habits to realise that not only does he now write to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon less regularly than Dudley, and certainly less often than he writes to Uncle Salazar, but also that it’s less than he used to.</p>
<p>“How…?” he hedges uncertainly; her lips twist in a wry, somewhat self-satisfied smile.</p>
<p>“Slytherin, remember? I have my ways. Anyway, what’s got you involved in this?”</p>
<p>Exhaling through his nose, Harry fights to set his thoughts in order, trying to work out how to put his feelings on the matter into words for her to understand – never mind how much of that he then wants her to know.</p>
<p>“I guess… I’ve been getting closer to Uncle Salazar for a while, and I don’t think it’s fair the way Uncle Vernon treats him because he’s gay – I mean, I could see he was saying things that Uncle Salazar found hurtful before I knew about the whole… gay thing. Aunt Petunia never stopped him. And now, it just kind of… is how it is. I’m closer to Uncle Salazar, Dudley’s closer to his parents, and…” he trails off, then hurries to clarify, “I don’t want to cut them out or anything; they raised me, and I love them so much. But I don’t really mind being closer to Uncle Salazar, I guess. It’s just what’s happened.”</p>
<p>For a moment after Harry has finished speaking, Hermione remains quiet, tilting her head to consider Harry carefully. Harry waits patiently, letting her think, then cocks his own head expectantly when she opens her mouth.</p>
<p>“So… Would you say that you’re closer to Salazar than Dudley’s parents at the moment?” she asks, soft and cautious. “Even though… I <em>am</em> right in saying you haven’t known him so long, aren’t I?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s right,” Harry confirms. “It’s been about… three years I’ve known Uncle Salazar. We’ve spent a lot of time together since, though. I think… Definitely, if I’d known them the same amount of time, I’d be closer to Uncle Salazar, but I… I don’t know. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon raised me.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Hermione nods. “How about… Does Salazar live with you?”</p>
<p>“Yep,” Harry replies, popping the ‘p’ just a little as he wonders why they’re even talking about this and where this particular conversation is going.</p>
<p>“What if he moved somewhere else?” Hermione questions carefully. “If you could choose, would you go with him or stay with Dudley’s parents?”</p>
<p>Harry hesitates, then realises that the only reason he’s hesitating is because he feels like he should.</p>
<p>“Uncle Salazar,” he tells her firmly. “Why?”</p>
<p>Her eyebrows rise in a very small expression of surprise at his answer, but then she seems to think about it and nods in acceptance.</p>
<p>“Just trying to work out who you’re closer to,” she shrugs, “And what’s going on between you and Dudley – Draco and I have both noticed, you know, and I imagine Neville has, too.”</p>
<p>It seems, to Harry, that she has more to say, though he’s not entirely sure what gives him that impression – perhaps the tone of her voice, or the shift in her posture, or the way she’s chewing her lip, as though she’s debating whether or not to mention something.</p>
<p>“And I think he’s planning to move at some point,” she rushes out, after several long seconds of silence between them. “Just something he said the other week… And the way he said it, I think he’s hoping you’d come with him if he did. I don’t know, I just… I wanted to see where you were at.”</p>
<p>Harry considers the idea for a moment and finds he isn’t entirely surprised. It wasn’t that long ago that Uncle Salazar explained to him the political and social advantages of having a large manor or similar for hosting events, and when his uncle had mentioned Potter Manor, it had been hard to miss the wistful glint in his eyes. Then, of course, it isn’t difficult to see why Uncle Salazar might not be particularly keen to stay with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to Hermione. “I’d go with him, if I got the choice.”</p>
<p>And hopefully, he will.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the next week, he continues to think on Hermione’s words. Dudley’s exercise schedule seems to have changed, so it’s just Harry and Hermione on Saturday morning, a perfect opportunity to speak more on the topic – but Harry doesn’t bring it up, and neither does Hermione. There’s nothing to say. Instead, as they dawdle their way slowly back up to the castle, Harry listens to her recount the contents of the letter that she received from her parents yesterday, smiling fondly at her beam when she describes the book that they sent alongside, and when she asks him why he’s been so bouncy lately, he decides to tell her about the apprenticeship opportunity, explaining its significance and what it could do for his future (besides <em>everything</em>).</p>
<p>“There’s <em>so</em> <em>much</em> I can learn,” he enthuses, unable to keep his grin from his face and unwilling to try. “Professor Snape is <em>world-renowned</em>, Hermione. There’s so much he can teach me, and I can’t really see myself doing anything other than Potions for a career; I’ve loved it since Uncle Salazar first introduced me to it. And it wouldn’t just be Potions he’d teach me, either. Uncle Salazar says he’s an incredible Occlumens, plus his duelling skill is amazing… Anyway, I’ve got twice-weekly sessions, now – that’s where I was yesterday evening – and I’m really enjoying it.”</p>
<p>“That’s great!” she exclaims, throwing her arms suddenly around him for a moment before drawing back to frown. “…You haven’t told Dudley, have you?”</p>
<p>Drawing in a deep breath, Harry glances away as he lifts an uncomfortable shoulder.</p>
<p>“No,” he admits. “You’re the second person I’ve told.”</p>
<p>“And the first was your uncle?” she guesses at once, Harry smiling wryly as he nods.</p>
<p>“You know me so well,” he jokes, earning a small huff of amusement from her as she nudges him gently.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should,” she adds a moment later. “I’m not saying you <em>have</em> to, of course. Just… It might get you two to start talking more again. You were a bit awkward after the holidays, but then you seemed fine, and now…”</p>
<p>She’s right, Harry recognises distantly, at least in terms of where he’s at with Dudley; they’ve ended up very much back where they were at the start of term. He’s not sure he’s ready to be the one to change that, though, and when he tells her that, she nods in quiet acceptance.</p>
<p>“I understand that,” she offers softly. “You certainly don’t want to force it too much, I think.”</p>
<p>They’ve reached the Entrance Hall, so with those words of wisdom, they split. Harry heads up to Ravenclaw Tower to shower and change clothing as she disappears down into the dungeons, but the conversation sticks in his head as warm water pelts down on him, her earlier revelation returning to him. It’s not, of course, definite that Uncle Salazar is planning to move at some point, but now that she’s said it, he has to admit that he can see the signs. Then again, maybe that’s just him twisting what he’s seen to what he expects to see.</p>
<p>When the Spring Holiday arrives, he’ll speak to his uncle about it; it doesn’t really seem the sort of thing that’s appropriate to put in a letter, but he’d rather get it out in the open and find out what’s going on rather than being completely blind-sided when Uncle Salazar announces one day that he has already packed all of his belongings and is moving out. Alright, so that’s probably <em>not</em> what would happen – for one, Harry would probably find out a while in advance, and he thinks (or hopes, at least) that Uncle Salazar would ask him to come as well – but that doesn’t mean he wants to leave it until Uncle Salazar decides to bring it up himself.</p>
<p>Maybe, if Uncle Salazar <em>isn’t</em> already thinking about it, or wants to but feels obligated to stay, then Harry bringing it up could give him the prompt he needs to move out and strengthen his political base – not to mention get away from Uncle Vernon’s homophobia.</p>
<p>Yes, he’ll bring it up over the holiday. Even if he has to make up some random excuse to get Uncle Salazar alone long enough for a proper conversation about it, then he’ll get it on the table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry wakes with the sun, the curtains drawn back to let the light stream into their dormitory freely and rouse him from his sleep – it took a lot of exchanging favours with his dormmates for them to agree to that one – and climbs out of bed, changing quickly into his pre-prepared light clothing of a simple t-shirt and loose cotton shorts, then crosses to close the curtains before anyone else is pulled from their slumber and, wand in hand, slips from the room. Outside, he greets Lisa and Padma with a silent wave, smiling when both return the gesture, and, barefoot, they pad down the stairs then along several corridors and down more stairs until they reach the Entrance Hall, just a few seconds before Draco and Hermione emerge from the dungeons with the rest of the first year Slytherins in tow.</p>
<p>Harry nods and smiles at all of them in greeting, but doesn’t say a word.</p>
<p>Soon, Neville joins them, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Parvati Patil following behind, and it’s only a minute before Dudley joins them as well, Susan Bones at his side. No one wears anything besides a simple t-shirt and shorts or a skirt, and only wands are carried.</p>
<p>When silent greetings have been exchanged, Harry finds he can’t be too surprised that they all turn to him expectantly, letting him lead them out into the dawn and down to the small patch of grass that they chose and prepared the night before – a matter of metres from the Forbidden Forest, just far enough away to be safe without straying from its proximity.</p>
<p>Still without a word, Harry kneels before the small hole he dug last night, waiting while they all do the same then slipping a hand into the pocket of his shorts to take out his seed. Carefully, he places it into the ground then flicks his wand to cover it over with earth, waiting while his year-mates do the same. Faintly, he’s aware of other groups of students emerging from the castle, similarly clothed as they make their way to their own spots to kneel and place their own seeds in the ground, but all of his focus is on his own group, and on not messing up the ritual.</p>
<p>The moment the last seed is covered, he lifts his wand to point it upwards.</p>
<p>“Darkness retires; light rises,” he announces, breaking his silence for the first time, and his companions echo the words solemnly then, when he twitches the fingers of his left hand, they whisper as one, “<em>Lumos</em>.”</p>
<p>The white light flares softly from each of their wands, fading in a matter of seconds to nothing once more, and for several more seconds, Harry lets them kneel in silence to appreciate the sensation of Spring magic buzzing beneath their skin and in the very air around them, then pushes himself up to stand, grinning at them all.</p>
<p>“That was <em>brilliant</em>!” Hermione breathes, the first to speak now that the ritual is complete. “I can still feel the magic…”</p>
<p>“You’ll feel it for the rest of the day,” Susan tells her gently, a warm smile on the Hufflepuff girl’s face. “It will fade over time, but there’ll still be a faint tingle by the time you get to bed.”</p>
<p>Beaming, Hermione nods her thanks, Harry pleased to see Dean and Seamus looking similarly awed by the experience as Neville reminds them quietly of what to expect for the rest of the day.</p>
<p>“So that’s… Ostara, right?” Dean asks finally, to a chorus of assent. “But there are others?”</p>
<p>“Beltane, Litha, Samhain and Yule,” Parvati confirms softly. “There were three more, but… well.”</p>
<p>She pulls a face, glancing at her sister before fixing her gaze on the ground, and Harry sees several shift uncomfortably; the Patils have been a Dark family ever since they arrived in Britain, choosing to adopt the traditions of the Isles while still managing to maintain their own cultural heritage privately – a feat Harry considers very impressive, especially given how well they seem to pass it down through the generations – but there are students in this group from all kinds of families, united only by the fact that they’re willing to perform rituals, either because it’s a family tradition or because they simply want to try it for themselves. Some of their parents helped with the criminalisation of those rituals, and Harry wouldn’t be surprised to find a mix of opinions about that in this very group.</p>
<p>“What happened to the other three?” Dean questions, brow creasing with confusion.</p>
<p>For a moment, Harry’s bewildered as to why everyone looks to him, but, he supposes, he <em>has</em> just led them through a ritual, and he seems to have become a sort of leader in the year, for no real reason other than circumstance and his own willingness to accept the role – and, of course, his family is Grey, which makes him a lot more neutral than most. Unfortunately for them, he has rather strong opinions on this.</p>
<p>“The Light banned them for stupid reasons,” he announces bluntly. “They banned Imbolc because apparently celebrating new life promotes Necromancy; they banned Mabon because if Ostara celebrates the growing strength of light, then Mabon must celebrate the growing strength of dark, so <em>must</em> promote Dark Magic, which is <em>scary </em>and <em>bad</em>, and Lughnasadh… Well, they were just enjoying their power-trip by that point.”</p>
<p>Harry can see in the faces of several of the students from Light families that they’re regretting letting him explain, but no one bothers to argue the point, Harry notes with satisfaction, and the majority don’t look to be silently disagreeing either.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Dean mutters, appearing disheartened. “But they haven’t banned any others?”</p>
<p>“No,” Lisa assures him, glancing uncertainly at Harry before adding, “Lord Potter’s been making quite sure of that, my mother says.”</p>
<p>Harry smiles in tight satisfaction and offers nothing more on the matter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s that very evening, just as Harry follows Professor Snape from the Forbidden Forest with all of the ingredients that he’s collected for his potion, that perhaps the most exciting thing since the Troll Incident occurs – or rather, combusts – before Harry’s very eyes. Later, Harry will wonder why these magical beast-related disasters keep landing themselves on festival days – likely, it’s coincidence, but maybe there’s some weird connection because of the magic of the day – but at the time, he’s rather more frozen in place as the gamekeeper’s hut, which had been smoking as they neared the treeline, bursts suddenly into flames, the man in question staggering out just before the structure collapses, beard on fire but otherwise seemingly unharmed.</p>
<p>“<em>What in Merlin’s name</em>…?” he hears Professor Snape breathe ahead of him, but his attention is caught on the large shape moving within the fog, memories rising of the gamekeeper’s strange research topics from a month or so back as a strange sense of awful, gut-wrenching realisation slams bodily into him.</p>
<p>“Dragon!” he whispers, and as the form seems to shift to face them – not that Harry can really tell through all the smoke – he reacts instinctively, launching himself forwards to throw both himself and Professor Snape to the ground, and flinches at the heat which sears his skin a second later, dragon-fire blasting through the space that their heads occupied not a moment before.</p>
<p>There’s a dragon. In Hogwarts. An actual dragon.</p>
<p>
  <em>What in Merlin’s name…?</em>
</p>
<p>“Norber’, no!” he hears the gamekeeper cry, closing his eyes in despair with the realisation that the idiot <em>named</em> it before rolling off Professor Snape as soon as his skin stops feeling like it could combust any second.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Sir,” he pants out, but Professor Snape merely waves him off and stands, wand in hand.</p>
<p>“Stay there, Mr Potter,” the Potions Master commands – as if Harry had any intention of going elsewhere – and with that, Professor Snape steps out of the forest to face down a dragon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As ever, hello and I hope you are all well. I come before you today to present another chapter and, as usual, I would love to hear any opinions/theories/feedback/other related - or even unrelated, particularly if you're up for discussing why Ethan Green from Starkid's Black Friday deserved so much better - ideas or facts/etc.. </p>
<p>I'm also going to say now that there will be a sequel to this; I will be doing one fic for each year, which is why it belongs to a series - though I will reiterate this at the end as well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry pants for breath, fingers digging into the layers of leaves and crumbled forest dirt beneath him as trees smoke and crackle around him. He pays the devastation no mind, however, all focus on Professor Snape as the man darts back and forth, wand whipping through the air with each silent incantation as he tries to restrain the adolescent dragon now roaring among the remains of the gamekeeper’s hut. The half-giant himself isn’t helping in the slightest, alternating between begging Professor Snape not to harm the dragon – “Don’ ‘urt ‘im, Professor; ‘e’s only a baby…” – and pleading with the dragon to calm down, as if it could <em>possibly</em> understand him.</p>
<p>Dimly, Harry realises that Professor Snape could do with some help, and that, with the idiot gamekeeper just hovering to the side like a useless fool, no one will be coming down from the castle. There’s only one method he has of contacting help, and he’s not exactly keen to ask Uncle Salazar to come to Hogwarts yet again, but his uncle could get here in a matter of seconds, and subduing the dragon <em>really</em> doesn’t look like a one-man effort, however admirably Professor Snape is holding up.</p>
<p>Groaning at the pain of putting pressure on the raw skin over his spine and back, he rolls over to stare up at the sizzling canopy above him, fumbling for his mirror and bringing it up to eye-level with shaking fingers.</p>
<p>“S – Salazar Potter,” he rasps, surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice and the scrape of his throat; he hadn’t realised how much his entire body aches before, but now, he’s very horribly aware that his lungs are burning, his ribs protesting with every breath as his eyes sting with tears and his legs cramp up.</p>
<p>Probably, he’s been lying here just breathing in smoke for too long, though the prolonged – if, luckily, quite indirect – exposure to dragon-fire won’t have helped.</p>
<p>“Harry?” Uncle Salazar demands, the worry in his tone suggesting that perhaps this isn’t the first time he’s tried to get Harry’s attention.</p>
<p><em>Right</em>.</p>
<p>“Dragon,” he gasps out, suppressing several coughs with difficulty before continuing. “Professor Snape’s f – fighting it, outside forest –”</p>
<p>He can’t hold off the coughing fit any longer, curling in on himself as his body attempts to expel all the smoke which has undoubtedly lodged itself inside his chest; it hurts terribly, everything in him screaming with the effort as his head swims, tears streaming down his face and seeming to scald his cheeks – until suddenly, his lungs are clear, his body relaxing seemingly of its own accord, though the wand Uncle Salazar holds to his chest suggests otherwise. A murmured incantation produces a transparent bubble around Harry’s head, holding out the smoke, then Uncle Salazar stands and turns towards Professor Snape and the dragon. Harry cranes his head back to watch until he can’t stretch it any further; then, gingerly, he rolls back onto his chest with a hiss at the scrape of the forest floor against his back, watching as together, the two men manage to pin the dragon down with chains and fit a conjured muzzle into place to keep the its jaws closed.</p>
<p>The immediate danger out of the way, Professor Snape bends double, hands on his knees as he coughs desperately; Uncle Salazar must perform the same spell as he used on Harry, because a moment later, the professor relaxes, nodding to Uncle Salazar in gratitude before straightening and turning in Harry’s direction. The two seem to be deliberately ignoring the gamekeeper as he weeps and protests the dragon’s ‘cruel’ treatment, making their way swiftly over to Harry instead.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure I’d like to risk magical transportation with dragon-fire burns,” Uncle Salazar murmurs to Professor Snape, gently lifting Harry up into a sitting position to examine his back. “One of us will have to carry him and simply try to avoid the damage.”</p>
<p>In all honesty, Harry has never really thought of Professor Snape as a particularly strong man, but apparently, he’s got enough muscle on him to lift Harry and carry him up to the castle, Uncle Salazar shouldering their belongings. Each step has Professor Snape’s arms shifting only barely against the edges of Harry’s burns, but the pain is horrible nonetheless, waves of nausea washing through him with each jolt, and all he can do is close his eyes in an attempt to block everything out – but that just makes it all worse, so he opens his eyes to stare at the sky instead and watch the slow progress of the black smoke above them as it drifts across.</p>
<p>“Where did the dragon come from?” he hears Uncle Salazar ask after a good minute of what appears to have been silent seething, and Professor Snape snorts derisively.</p>
<p>“It would appear that Hagrid has been keeping it in his hut, though I can’t say as much for certain.”</p>
<p>Hagrid. <em>That</em>’s the name of the gamekeeper.</p>
<p>“I see.”</p>
<p>A muscle in Uncle Salazar’s jaw jumps.</p>
<p>“You’ll have medical supplies in your office?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Professor Snape confirms. “Including burn salves – they’re not perfect, but they’re certainly more than useful.”</p>
<p>“…Harry made them?”</p>
<p>“Indeed.”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar hums quietly in thought, and for a time, the only sounds Harry can detect are Professor Snape’s harsh breathing and the solid thump of the man’s heart through his ribcage, which rises and falls against Harry’s ear.</p>
<p>“Is there a particular reason why you’d rather avoid the Infirmary?” Professor Snape asks finally.</p>
<p>“I’d rather not announce my presence here this evening,” Uncle Salazar replies evenly. “Tomorrow, perhaps, once I’m gone, but not while I’d rather stay with Harry. I have no doubt that you’re perfectly capable of treating both yourself and him.”</p>
<p>Professor Snape doesn’t deny it.</p>
<p>After that, things start to blur together for Harry; he’s aware of being set gently down onto a soft but firm surface, then rolled onto his chest as a familiar voice murmurs incantations, a cool, viscous liquid spread over his back to soothe the burning of his skin instantly, and only a few minutes later he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, though he forces himself to stay awake until, finally, Uncle Salazar sits down in his line of sight and reaches out to settle a hand in his hair, stroking lightly.</p>
<p>Only then does he dare to let everything slip away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…dragon. A fucking <em>dragon</em>. James mentioned he was friendly – not that he was a fucking <em>moron</em> with a habit of endangering students!”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar, Harry registers distantly, is furious. He’s not entirely sure what about, but it must be bad, because Uncle Salazar rarely raises his voice; normally, his anger is cold and quiet, just like Professor Snape’s, but right now, his words quiver with the depth of his rage, the very room buzzing with it.</p>
<p>“I will <em>not</em> allow Harry to die because of the stupidity of some ignorant fool who thinks himself above the laws that the rest of us <em>mere mortals</em> have to follow. Thinking he could raise a dragon – he couldn’t raise a fucking <em>potato</em>, from what I saw of him in there.”</p>
<p>Professor Snape’s snort is dry and entirely unamused, but his agreement is implicit within it, and when Harry manages to crack his eyes open, the first thing that blurs into focus is the man himself, sat in an armchair with one leg crossed over the other, a mug of some steaming liquid cradled in his hands as he watches Uncle Salazar stalk angrily back and forth and nods in consensus.</p>
<p>“You care deeply about your nephew,” is his only comment, to Harry’s surprise.</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar stills at once, nodding and drawing in a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he confirms without hesitation. “Yes, of course I do. Harry is… beyond important to me.”</p>
<p>Touched, Harry feels his lips twitch with fondness for his uncle.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Professor Snape doesn’t press the matter any further, apparently satisfied. “I assume you’ll be contacting the Ministry?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Uncle Salazar repeats, slowly sinking down into another armchair and lifting a hand to run long fingers through his dark hair. “Yes, I will.”</p>
<p>“You will have to find a suitable explanation for how easily you entered Hogwarts grounds,” Professor Snape points out. “Again.”</p>
<p>“Will I?” Uncle Salazar hums; Harry holds his breath, silently tense.</p>
<p>“I didn’t miss your avoidance of the issue last time,” Professor Snape tells him dryly. “You do seem rather familiar with the place for someone who never attended as a student.”</p>
<p>“Well…” Uncle Salazar sighs. “The castle and its grounds <em>do</em> belong to me, but somehow, I doubt <em>that</em> particular explanation would go over well with the Ministry.”</p>
<p>Professor Snape’s eyebrows rocket upwards; Harry doesn’t blame the man, because he’s fairly sure that he’d have reacted the same way, in Professor Snape’s place.</p>
<p>“You’re an… Heir of one of the Founders?” Professor Snape asks, seemingly more to test out the idea than anything else, but the crease that mars his brow suggests that he isn’t entirely settled on the theory.</p>
<p>“I stumbled upon a few things in my time away,” Uncle Salazar tells him, lifting one shoulder, then glances over at Harry, face lighting up as he realises that Harry is awake. “Harry! How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>“Like’ve been run ‘ver by hipp’griff…” Harry groans, coughing a little when something catches in his throat. “Wha’s time?”</p>
<p>“Approximately half past four, Saturday morning,” Professor Snape tells him, which has Harry’s jaw dropping open in an instant.</p>
<p>“Have y’stayed up th’whole night?” he asks, incredulous, and Uncle Salazar glances away to shrug, the gesture a clear confirmation. “You didn’t have to…”</p>
<p>“Of course I had to,” Uncle Salazar tells him firmly. “Harry, I was so worried when you first contacted me – you think I was about to fall asleep on you after <em>that</em>?”</p>
<p>A little embarrassed, Harry struggles for a reply and comes up short.</p>
<p>“How long’re you staying?” he settles for asking instead, as Professor Snape stands to vacate the room for a time; the newfound privacy reminds Harry of what he’d originally intended to ask Uncle Salazar about over the upcoming holiday.</p>
<p>“Just an hour or so more, to ensure that you really are fine,” his uncle tells him gently. “And perhaps to have a look around – Professor Snape tells me that you had some suspicions regarding one of your other professors’ intentions towards the Stone?”</p>
<p>The glint in Uncle Salazar’s eye promises more words on exactly <em>how</em> Harry came to acquire such suspicions at another time, which likely won’t be a fun conversation to have, but Harry ignores that thought in favour of explaining.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I think Professor Quirrell might be after it – and he normally acts all meek and scared, but… I think that might be him pretending.”</p>
<p>Slowly, Uncle Salazar’s chin lifts in acknowledgement.</p>
<p>“I might investigate him while I’m here, then,” his uncle tells him. “For now, though… How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>“Sore, as I said earlier,” Harry admits, and takes his chance before Uncle Salazar can reply to ask, “Are you planning to move at some point?”</p>
<p>The way Uncle Salazar stills and simply looks at him, Harry thinks, is a pretty clear ‘yes’.</p>
<p>“I am currently looking into restoring Potter Manor,” the man admits carefully, shifting almost as though he’s waiting for any sign that he might need to bolt. “Having a proper base for our family will help both our magic and our political standing.”</p>
<p>“And it’d get you away from Uncle Vernon,” Harry fills in bluntly, Uncle Salazar grimacing but certainly not denying the suggestion. “What about me?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s gaze flickers sideways.</p>
<p>“It won’t be for a few years yet, and I would ensure that I could continue to teach you everything –”</p>
<p>“But what if I wanted to come with you?” Harry interrupts, a little impatient, and is satisfied to see Uncle Salazar blink, apparently taken aback. “Could I do that?”</p>
<p>“Yes…” Uncle Salazar agrees, the single syllable drawn cautiously out as he eyes Harry closely. “If you’d like to come, then I’d do <em>everything</em> in my power to make that a reality.”</p>
<p>Beaming, Harry nods to show his satisfaction with that answer and the conviction in Uncle Salazar’s tone, happy to know that Uncle Salazar actually wants him to come along. It’s not, of course, that he wants to leave Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but he almost thinks that, with their current problems, it might be at least partially a case of no longer being able to put up with their differing views quite so constantly as he sometimes has to over the holidays, and hopefully, moving with Uncle Salazar would provide that consistent break for him outside of term-time. This way, he’s less likely to end up outright resenting them for it – right?</p>
<p>“How was Ostara?” Uncle Salazar asks, breaking Harry’s train of thought and the comfortable silence which had fallen over the room. “Aside from the dragon, of course.”</p>
<p>“Good!” Harry assures him, perking up again. “We had even more people than we did for Samhain, and I think I led the ritual alright –”</p>
<p>“You led the ritual?” Uncle Salazar’s eyebrows rise, surprise evident in his tone.</p>
<p>“Er… yes?” Harry confirms uncertainly. “I <em>did</em> lead Samhain as well.”</p>
<p>When Uncle Salazar simply continues to stare at him, he realises that he never mentioned it in his letters home – not explicitly, at any rate. He likely gushed over how incredible it was to take someone through it for the first time, but never mentioned that he actually <em>led</em> the ritual.</p>
<p>“That is… alright, isn’t it?” he checks, a little worried, when Uncle Salazar remains silent, and that seems to shake the man from his thoughts.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Uncle Salazar replies at once, then shakes himself again, a smile forming slowly across his features. “Yes, that’s brilliant. Well done, Harry.”</p>
<p>The approval means more than Harry thinks he could explain aloud, so he settles for returning the smile instead, cheeks warming pleasantly. Uncle Salazar had worried him for a moment there, in all honesty, but with everything apparently fine, he’s happy to settle onto his chest at Professor Snape’s request, the Potions Master returning with a pot of burn salve to apply to Harry’s back.</p>
<p>For the next hour, they catch up in soft tones while Professor Snape grades homework on the other side of the room, Uncle Salazar updating him on the political situation in far more detail than he’d normally feel comfortable with in a letter and prompting Harry to give his opinions on each minute happening so that they can discuss the strengths and flaws in his reasoning. Harry in turn relays his progress in each of his subjects, with a quick contribution from Professor Snape when he gets to Potions, and assures his uncle that Dumbledore has left him alone, that the study group is thriving as ever, and that he’s kept up his exercise routine – often alongside Hermione and occasionally Neville, with less input from Dudley (and certainly none from Draco, who’s a lot more open than he was at the start of the year, but still would <em>never</em> lower himself to using <em>muggle</em> workout equipment or risk ruining his reputation by joining them for a run).</p>
<p>It’s at the mention of Dudley that Uncle Salazar’s face falls, his eyes drawing sideways as his lips thin and sadness flickers across his expression.</p>
<p>“I just wish I…” he sighs, trailing off, and shakes his head; Harry bites his lip, knowing full well why Dudley has been keeping his distance but also entirely too aware that he agreed not to tell Uncle Salazar that reason.</p>
<p>Well, maybe there’s another way to get the message across without saying anything directly.</p>
<p>“I do know why…” he ventures cautiously, Uncle Salazar’s eyes snapping immediately back to him. “I told Dudley I wouldn’t tell you, but… It’s to do with something <em>you</em> can’t tell him. He doesn’t actually know what it is, but…”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s expression clears instantly with realisation, then his eyes narrow, his brow creasing as his lips thin.</p>
<p>“Of course,” he mutters darkly, though Harry suspects that his anger is aimed entirely at Uncle Vernon, not Dudley. “Thank you, Harry. I’ll work out what to do about that.”</p>
<p>After that, they manage another ten minutes of light-hearted conversation before Uncle Salazar takes his leave and Harry, with one last check-over from Professor Snape, heads for Ravenclaw Tower in his repaired – but still smoke-scented – robes. On his right middle finger, a new signet ring glints, handed to him from Uncle Salazar with the express command that he not take it off, except to wash the skin beneath it; it’s the Potter Heir ring, and normally, Heirs don’t bother to wear their rings, but apparently, recent events have made Uncle Salazar cautious enough that he wants Harry to wear it, given that it will inform Uncle Salazar immediately if Harry is hurt. As soon as Harry had put it on, assured his uncle that he wouldn’t take it off except for the one stated time, and accepted the hug he’d been offered, Uncle Salazar had left. From what he knows, his uncle plans to have a quick snoop around the castle with the Invisibility Cloak left to him by Harry’s father, then head straight to the Ministry in ‘irate uncle’ form to report the reckless child endangerment taking place within the school.</p>
<p>“Harry!” Hermione appears in front of him as he emerges from the Dungeons into the Entrance Hall, Neville at her side; both of them are dressed to run, and with a start, Harry realises that he’d normally have met with them about quarter of an hour ago. “Where’ve you been? And… Why do you smell…?”</p>
<p>“Dragon,” Harry mutters tiredly, unable to muster the energy for full sentence, never mind the emphasis that his words should probably carry with them. “Gamekeeper raising a dragon. Burnt his hut down – Professor Snape an’ Uncle Salazar stopped it… Got a bit burnt.”</p>
<p>Hermione stares at him blankly, shock, horror and mild incomprehension mingling in her features.</p>
<p>“Tell us later,” Neville offers. “Go and have a shower then sleep, alright? We’ll get Terry or someone to bring you some food and wake you up for lunch.”</p>
<p>Grateful, Harry nods his agreement and manages a tired smile before stumbling onwards, up the stairs to do exactly as Neville suggested, though the shower takes more effort than he really has to spare. When, finally, he gets into bed, he’s asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Salazar Slytherin – or Potter to most who know him these days – is furious. No, furious does not even <em>begin</em> to describe his emotional state at the moment. For almost three years now, he has been promising himself that he will stay in the shadows and simply do his best to support both Harry and Dudley while slowly doing his bit to restore both the Potter Estate and balance in the wider magical community – after all, that <em>is </em>what a Grey family stands for, first and foremost. Revealing himself was a necessary sacrifice which he made to keep Dumbledore at a safe distance from Harry, and while he wasn’t entirely prepared for it, he handled it and the resulting media attention well enough that no real damage was done.</p>
<p>This dragon, however… This dragon has him wanting to march into the Great Hall and declare <em>everything</em>, just to have the old goat and his moronic followers thrown from his home and protect his students in doing so. <em>How dare they endanger the students?</em></p>
<p>If it were an external threat, then the solution would be easy; they prepared for these things, back when the magical community was so much less stable than even now, and the muggles were a very real and constant threat. An internal threat, however, they never even dreamed of. Well, Salazar suggested such precautions, but Helga merely told him that he was paranoid, and when Godric agreed, he let it slide easily enough – <em>far</em> too easily. Why didn’t he insist? Why didn’t he tell them that he didn’t trust their beautiful school’s future headmasters? They would have understood if he’d given his reasonings, but he’d let himself be placated, and now here they are.</p>
<p>That’s not to say that Salazar is about to blame himself for this entire situation; he’s not so foolish himself as to actually believe himself entirely at fault. He is merely very horribly aware of his own fair share of mistakes which contributed to this mess.</p>
<p>But regardless, he is far past furious, on the verge of shaking with the depth of rage he feels, and that is why, instead of making straight for the Ministry of Magic, he stands in a clearing deep into the Forbidden Forest, hand around his amulet to grasp it and tug it roughly over his head. He’ll put it back on as soon as he’s done but, for now, he needs to let some magic out as quickly as possible to relieve some of this desperate wrath, and for that he needs his wand and amulet out of his way.</p>
<p>A few blasting curses should be the best way to start. Something to leave some <em>lasting</em> damage.</p>
<p>In the end, Salazar doesn’t know how long he spends throwing his magical tantrum but, when finally he feels calm enough to slow the stream of magic and eventually cease his firing altogether, it doesn’t take him long to notice the sets of eyes watching him. <em>Sets of </em>eight<em> eyes</em>, he registers, eyes narrowing as he summons his amulet and wand warily to him. Spiders are not normally so large as the creatures hidden amid the shadows seem to be, and the clicking of their pincers should certainly not be <em>quite</em> so audible.</p>
<p><em>Acromantulas</em>.</p>
<p>Salazar could simply apparate out of here; the Hogwarts wards were never exactly keyed <em>against</em> allowing him to, after all, because why change the exceptions within the wards after those exceptions have ‘passed away’? Unfortunately, that would give away that such exceptions apply to him, and the very last thing he wants at the moment is to find that these creatures have a good enough relationship with Dumbledore or that foolish gamekeeper to report such things. The same is true for his portkey; although not specifically warded against, it is not easy to create a portkey into or out of a place such as this. He has already been lucky enough that no one has questioned his ability to simply arrive within school grounds in a matter of seconds, and he does not intend to change that when he does not need to. Beyond that, of course, he does not trust himself to apparate successfully and safely in his current state of mind.</p>
<p>Instead, he tilts his head and looks around at them all, considering what else he knows about them and locking down his replenished anger at the realisation that a hoard of these murderous beasts has been kept within school grounds. On further consideration, he rather doubts that he will be able to deal with this situation without revealing <em>something</em>, but some secrets are more likely to hold enough intimidation factor to ensure that they are kept than others.</p>
<p>“Do you know,” he begins softly, because there is no need to raise his voice to carry; they’ll hear him, “That the basilisk in the school belongs to me? She’s rather dear to me, you know. We haven’t seen one another in a while, but she’s always been very set on protecting me from any potential…”</p>
<p>He trails off, knowing that there’s no point in speaking with nothing around to listen anymore. Honestly, he didn’t expect that to work so well, but clearly, they aren’t even willing to take the risk.</p>
<p>Without the need to constantly be on full alert, he’s able to rummage through his bag to draw out James’ Invisibility Cloak once more – and yes, he <em>knows </em>that it’s a family Heirloom and is technically his until he passes it on, but cannot separate his memory of it from that of his brother – and throw it over himself. The Ministry it is, for a growing list of complaints.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minister Fudge, having been quite happy to offer him a personal audience on realising that it was <em>Salazar Potter</em> who made the request, is aghast at the thought of a dragon at Hogwarts.</p>
<p>“Raised by the gamekeeper, you say?” he frowns when he’s over his initial horror, already writing a note to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.</p>
<p>“I cannot say for certain, but it certainly emerged from within his hut, and he seemed to have given it a name,” Salazar explains. “Unfortunately, that is not the only thing I discovered while I was there.”</p>
<p>Fudge stops writing at once, glancing up with clear recognition that Salazar’s next words are about to bring worse news still.</p>
<p>“Acromantulas,” Salazar tells him silkily, unable to keep the cold fury from his tone, and ignores Fudge’s shocked echo of the word, “In the Forbidden Forest. There appears to be an entire colony there. I barely escaped with my life.”</p>
<p>Of course, that is very much hyperbole, but Fudge doesn’t need to know that, and Salazar certainly doesn’t plan on telling him.</p>
<p>“You must understand, Minister Fudge,” he continues, “How concerned I am for the safety of my dear nephew – my Heir and my last remaining family – and his friends, several of whom are also the Heirs of my own acquaintances. Add to that the presence of the Philosopher’s Stone within the school, and it all starts to paint a rather alarming picture, don’t you think? Why, it was only last October that I heard of a troll appearing mysteriously in the school, and with that third-floor corridor having been announced as… What was it that Harry wrote in his first letter home? ‘Forbidden at the risk of a painful death’?</p>
<p>“Minister Fudge, within his first year of Hogwarts, my nephew – a boy who has certainly suffered enough trauma to last a lifetime, and highly publicly at that – has been harassed by his headmaster, almost attacked by a troll, <em>actually</em> attacked by a dragon, and now stands at risk of an acromantula attack, with Merlin knows what else around the corner. At this rate, I might have to consider pulling him out of Hogwarts, and you can understand that such an action is really the <em>last</em> decision I’d wish to be forced into.”</p>
<p>There’s so much more he could say. He could mention the three-headed dog on the third floor, he could discuss the girl murdered fifty years ago – more anger rises at the thought of one of <em>his</em> students losing their life inside Hogwarts, which was meant to be a haven, and he fully intends to look into her death – and he could even make pointed remarks on Dumbledore’s plan to send the entirety of Slytherin House <em>towards</em> the afore-mentioned troll. He doesn’t bother, though; he doesn’t need to.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Fudge agrees, nodding so vigorously that Salazar wonders if his hat – ridiculous to be worn indoors – might fall off. “I – Yes, of course. Things will have to be changed. Dumbledore is powerful, very powerful, but the gamekeeper… That gamekeeper shouldn’t really be back on school property after expulsion…”</p>
<p><em>Really</em>? Salazar wrestles his features under control with some difficulty, restraining them from twisting in surprise and derision at the offhand comment. <em>The gamekeeper was expelled from Hogwarts, was he? Something creature-related, no doubt.</em></p>
<p>“Perhaps we could look at providing the Board of Governors with more power – so that if anything <em>were</em> to happen again, they could do something about it.”</p>
<p>Salazar considers indulging that idea, but in the long-term, it might restrict his own mobility. Having the station of Headmaster of Hogwarts tied down under bureaucracy is not, he thinks, ideal; Dumbledore will be restrained well enough by the law from now on, especially with the current stalemate in the Wizengamot stopping the old goat from manipulating the entire country to his will.</p>
<p>“I am sure that something <em>quite</em> so extreme is not necessary yet,” Salazar tells Fudge, keeping his tone calm and level. “Better to hold it over his head for the time being, surely? A precaution, if you will, to allow him a chance to straighten up his act. I’d sleep well enough at night just knowing that the gamekeeper is far away from those I hold dear to me.”</p>
<p>For a second, Fudge eyes him, and Salazar almost expects the man to show a hint of backbone, but alas, the Minister for Magic concedes in seconds.</p>
<p>“Of course, a good idea,” comes the hurried agreement. “Rest assured, Lord Potter, this will be seen to immediately.”</p>
<p>“Please, Minister,” Salazar smiles, finally extending the courtesy which he withheld at their initial greeting as a subtle reward, “Call me Salazar.”</p>
<p>Fudge’s chest puffs out almost instantly.</p>
<p>“Then Cornelius, if you will, Salazar,” he returns, and Salazar takes one last gamble, smiling sweetly.</p>
<p>“Of course, <em>Cornelius</em>,” he all but purrs, flicking his tongue out to lick along his lips, and is rewarded by Fudge’s eyes following the movement. “It’s been an absolute <em>pleasure</em> – should I see myself out…?”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Fudge assures him at once, standing hurriedly with a smile which is probably meant to seem assured but really, just comes across as mildly desperate; it’s incredible what a strained marriage and terrible stress at work can do to a man, and Salazar plans to take <em>full</em> advantage. “Allow me…”</p>
<p>In all honesty, Salazar has done a lot of homework on the other man over the last few years, from his childhood to his sexual preferences; he even changed his attire ever so slightly before arrival, for any further influence it might provide for him. Truthfully, he doubts he needed it for <em>this</em> meeting, but he’s glad he made that decision regardless, because it certainly seems to be going some way in building a rapport with the supposed leader of Magical Britain.</p>
<p>“Do you know,” he starts when they’re about to part company, twisting back towards Fudge with a smile, “I quite enjoyed our chat, Cornelius. Do you think, perhaps, that we could make it a regular occurrence?”</p>
<p>Fudge gapes at him.</p>
<p>“For… business purposes, of course,” he adds, earning a slow blink before Fudge manages to shake himself.</p>
<p>“For…? Yes. Yes, that sounds quite… For business purposes,” the man agrees, visibly floundering.</p>
<p>“I’ll make an appointment with your secretary, shall I?”</p>
<p>“What? Oh, no, no need to be so formal…” Fudge manages weakly, Salazar trying his level best not to grin like a cat being gifted a lifetime’s supply of cream.</p>
<p><em>This</em> is even better than he could have hoped, though of course it would be unwise to let his delight show too early, before Fudge has finished speaking.</p>
<p>“Are you available next Thursday, around, oh… twelve o’clock?”</p>
<p>That, if Salazar’s memory serves him correctly (which of course it does), is Fudge’s lunch break.</p>
<p>“For you, Cornelius?” he asks, smiling. “Of course.”</p>
<p>For a moment, silence falls, Salazar letting his gaze drop downwards, to Fudge’s lips, and then lower still, before flickering back up.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you then,” he adds softly, and takes his leave.</p>
<p>To be truthful, sleeping with Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, is not part of his current plans, but certainly, building a relationship with Fudge that involves the man hanging off his every whim seems very much beneficial, and if it comes to sex… Salazar is a grown man with needs, and he does not need to find Fudge particularly attractive to satisfy those needs; it is almost better that he is not exactly interested in Fudge himself because, that way, he does not need to feel the guilt of wondering if he is betraying Godric.</p>
<p>Regardless, Salazar isn’t going to have such advantages forever, and he plans to make full use of them while he can.</p>
<p>This, however, will <em>not</em> be a side of his political dealings that he ever plans for Harry – or Dudley – to hear of.</p>
<p>As he strides down the corridors of the Ministry, he keeps his face carefully blank, ignoring the stares cast in his direction – and the blond whose panted breaths he can hear somewhere behind him and a little to his right, letting the other man speed-walk to catch him instead of slowing himself.</p>
<p>“Strengthening connections, are we, Salazar?” Lucius asks him on finally falling into step at his side, audibly amused, and Salazar experiences his usual conflict of wanting to <em>ruin</em> the man who aided his brother’s murderer at the same time as actually finding some enjoyment in the older man’s presence. “Our dear Cornelius seemed quite… besotted.”</p>
<p>“Mmm…” Salazar hums, shooting the Malfoy Lord a mock-coy glance. “I couldn’t <em>possibly</em> know what you’re referring to, Lucius. Cornelius and I are simply… becoming acquainted.”</p>
<p>Lucius snorts outright at that, earning a surprised glance from the Head of the Weasley family, passing in the other direction to them at the time of the occurrence. Salazar does not miss how the red-headed man’s gaze flickers briefly over to him, a crease forming in Weasley’s brow before their eyes meet and Weasley looks away.</p>
<p>“You’ll have to keep me updated on exactly how acquainted you become,” Lucius tells him dryly.</p>
<p>“Ah, <em>Lucius</em>…” Salazar sighs, shaking his head. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”</p>
<p>Lucius inclines his own head in acknowledgement, Salazar returning the offered smirk, and on they walk, without so much a destination as a mutual intention to walk through the entire Ministry to observes the various business throughout.</p>
<p>“What brings you here, then, Salazar?” Lucius enquires after several minutes of comfortable silence, both men slightly preoccupied by their surroundings. “I assume your purpose was not <em>merely</em> to work your way into the Minister’s bed – though you’re certainly dressed to his preferences.”</p>
<p>“I was here to inform Minister Fudge of the rather appalling situation currently in place at our Heirs’ school,” Salazar allows, pausing briefly while Lucius raises an eyebrow and ignoring the comment on his state of dress; a subtle flick of his fingers has his robes loosening ever so slightly, back to his own preferred fit, as every non-functional decoration melts away. “It transpires that the gamekeeper was raising a dragon, which last night attacked both Harry and Severus Snape.”</p>
<p>“A <em>dragon</em>?” Lucius exclaims, dragging his voice down to a more acceptable level before continuing. “I <em>knew</em> that oaf was trouble. Dumbledore should never have employed him!”</p>
<p>Nodding in passive agreement, Salazar licks his lips to continue.</p>
<p>“Only Severus’ duelling ability and Harry’s quick thinking in calling me for support saved them, I’d say. Severus is a formidable fighter, but one lone wizard is no match for a dragon, and when I arrived, the gamekeeper was still begging pitifully for the dragon to be spared, instead of going for help as he should have. As it was, Harry had burns over the entirety of his back – luckily mild and easily treatable, but nevertheless. Then, of course, there are the acromantulas which I have discovered in the forest – a ghastly state of affairs, as I’m sure you’d agree. Really, I fear for what could happen next.”</p>
<p>When he glances over, Lucius’ brow is creased in a worried frown.</p>
<p>“Indeed…” his companion murmurs. “Tell me, Salazar… How much do you know about Rubeus Hagrid?”</p>
<p>The next five minutes of conversation are… more than a little enlightening, in several aspects. Firstly, to Salazar’s horror, it appears that his chamber and the basilisk within have been horrifically misused over the last fifty years, to the point of the death of one of the students – and he has been meaning to look into her demise, but in all honesty, knowing the truth feels little better than his previous ignorance. Secondly, the gamekeeper, one Mr Hagrid, was framed by one Tom Riddle, and, after Lucius reluctantly informs him of who Tom Riddle went on to become, a third link starts to form in Salazar’s mind. This Dark Lord, You-Know-Who himself – or Mr Riddle, as Salazar commits to calling him, for really, it is only proper now that the title of Dark Lord has moved on to another – must surely have been the one to open Salazar’s chamber and release the basilisk within, which is undeniably concerning.</p>
<p>At some point, Salazar decides, he will have to find a reason to return to Hogwarts and update the security of the chamber to ensure that no further rogue Parselmouths will be able to commit such atrocious crimes with the creature that Salazar raised from a hatchling to <em>defend</em> the school, under his control and his alone and with the full support and knowledge of his fellow Founders.</p>
<p>By the time he bids Lucius goodbye, his anger is all but back to its original levels, pre-Acromantulas, but just low enough for him to squash it down as he heads home. Perhaps now is not the time to expose himself to the grating presence of his nephew’s other relatives, but at least Petunia is generally reasonable, and he <em>has</em> been meaning to teach her some more charms that neither of them have got around to arranging a time for. He knows for a fact that she was planning to keep her day as free as possible today, so possibly the chance to further another’s learning will soothe him for a little while.</p>
<p>Certainly, he will need a clear head for what is to come.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been meaning to say this for weeks now, but this is the first time I've remembered while actually writing this: thank you to everyone who has commented; it means a lot to me, and I really enjoy reading your thoughts and  engaging in spoiler-free dialogue where possible. If you want to express or discuss opinions relevant to this or not - such as the meta value of Show Stopping Number, the development of Tedgens, sports, the weather or tea - I would love to hear from you!</p>
<p>Otherwise, stay safe and enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day following the dragon incident is nothing more nor less than an exercise in demonstrating how quickly the Ministry can work when it puts its mind to something – and as such, a clear display of how rarely it <em>does</em> put its mind to things.</p>
<p>“Your uncle <em>really</em> must have brought out the threats,” Draco mutters as they watch Aurors escort the sobbing gamekeeper from Hogwarts grounds, Harry wondering only faintly if he should feel sorry for the man but not entirely bothered about pity when the twinges in his back continue to remind him of how close both he and Professor Snape came to a much worse fate. “And really – <em>acromantulas</em>?”</p>
<p>Blankly, Hermione nods her agreement. From the Forbidden Forest, faint shouts drift across to them on the wind, interspersed by the occasional flare of light flickering between the thick tree-cover. When the team of armoured, obviously highly-trained witches and wizards had turned from securing the dragon properly to march into the Forbidden Forest, Harry had been as clueless as everyone else. It didn’t take long, however, for word to spread that, along with the report of the dragon by an ‘anonymous source’, it had been revealed that there was a colony of acromantulas living within the forest, to Harry’s utter horror.</p>
<p>It’s a more than a little unsettling to think that, in any of his and Professor Snape’s outings, they could have run into the savage beasts, and who knows if anyone would ever have worked out what had happened to them?</p>
<p>Shuddering, Harry pushes such thoughts away, turning from the sight of it all to find something to distract him. He doesn’t want to think too much about his encounter with dragon; almost as soon as he fell asleep a few hours ago, he was hit with a nightmare in which he didn’t react in time, forced to watch Professor Snape scream and writhe as his flesh charred and fell from the bone, until the fire hit Harry, too, and the sheer agony of it had him bolting upright, screaming so loudly that a Prefect rushed up to check on him.</p>
<p>After that, the stories only spread of Harry Potter’s brave fight against the dragon, and honestly, Harry had been mildly disappointed in September that the other students’ reaction to his presence wasn’t as big as he’d thought it might be – probably due to his previous exposure to the magical community and his insistence on sticking to formal introductions – but now, he’s more than grateful for it, because the attention that he’s received in the last hour alone has already become unbearable, and he’s not sure he can survive another, never mind a whole day – or even a <em>week</em>. Hopefully, though, it won’t extend past that, because by then, the student body will likely have something entirely new to gossip about.</p>
<p>With his back turned to the action, he’s the only one to see the flash of purple that hovers at the entrance to the castle for a moment before disappearing inside. Usually, Harry would think nothing of it, but… everyone – including every single professor – is outside, watching, aside from Quirrell. This would be the perfect moment, while everyone is distracted, to try something and get away before anyone realises what’s wrong.</p>
<p>Quickly, Harry looks around for Professor Snape, but finds the man standing with Dumbledore. For a moment, he considers going over anyway, but right now, with the dragon so fresh in his mind, the last thing he thinks he could bear to do would be to get anywhere near the Headmaster.</p>
<p>“Can we go inside for a second?” he asks his friends quietly, jerking his head towards the castle, and after a few glances have been exchanged, they agree reluctantly, following him away from their viewing spot.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Hermione asks him worriedly, fingers ghosting his arm as she takes several step at an almost-run to keep up with him. “Is your back…?”</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine,” he assures her. “Quirrell just slipped inside, is all, and I just have this gut feeling – like he’s going to try something.”</p>
<p>“Try something?” Dudley echoes. “What do you mean, <em>try</em> <em>something</em>?”</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>. Harry never told them about his suspicions, did he?</p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure he’s after the Stone,” he explains, then, when Hermione and Neville continue to stare at him blankly, elaborates, “The Philosopher’s Stone. It’s what Dumbledore’s been hiding on the third floor.”</p>
<p>Ignoring their shocked stares, he takes the steps up to the entrance two at a time, then slips in as quietly as he can, unable to ignore his shiver at the silence of the castle.</p>
<p>“And you’re just going after him?” Hermione demands, incredulous. “Harry – get a <em>teacher</em> to do it!”</p>
<p>“They’re all with Dumbledore,” Harry points out. “There’s no way I’m going near him.”</p>
<p>“Harry,” Hermione tries, reaching out to catch his arm, but he ignores her and keeps moving. “Harry, think about this; you’re acting irrationally…”</p>
<p>“Well, sometimes, that’s what you’ve got to do,” he mutters in reply. “Don’t worry, I’ll call Uncle Salazar if I’m right about what he’s doing – it could be nothing, though. I just don’t want to call him here <em>again</em>, for nothing. He only left a few hours ago.”</p>
<p>“He was here?” Dudley demands, and there’s an almost hurt note in his tone. “Why didn’t he come to see me?”</p>
<p>Without pausing, Harry twists and raises a disbelieving eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Maybe because he didn’t think you’d want to see him?” he returns pointedly, satisfied when Dudley wilts at once, face contorting with the slightest hint of guilt. “Look, none of you have to come with me if you don’t want to. Maybe someone should stay back to let the teachers know or something. I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“I’m coming with you,” Dudley tells him at once, firm and sure, and to tell the truth, it’s the closest that Harry has felt to his cousin in <em>weeks</em>. “You might need some actual muscle.”</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Harry fights the urge to huff even as he comes to a stop outside the third-floor corridor.</p>
<p>“I’m coming,” Hermione tells him firmly, and Neville shifts in discomfort but nods as well.</p>
<p>“I think I’ll stay,” Draco announces, a little uncertain, but seems to firm in his decision a moment later, straightening his back and nodding. “Father would <em>murder</em> me if he heard – and someone needs to tell the professors if something terrible happens and you all die in there.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Harry snorts, as Neville turns a little green. “It could be nothing, as I said, but…”</p>
<p>“Let’s just do this,” Dudley announces, squaring his shoulders. “If it’s nothing, best to know that sooner rather than later. If you’re right…”</p>
<p>Nodding in acknowledgement of a point well-made, Harry takes a deep breath, aims his wand at the door, and intones,</p>
<p>“<em>Alohomora.</em>”</p>
<p>Carefully, he nudges it open, blinking when he comes face to face with a sleeping three-headed dog which, when awake, could probably be quite vicious. Barely daring to breathe, he turns to lift a finger to his lips, beckoning his friends slowly into the room and towards an open trapdoor, beside which an abandoned harp lies. <em>Strange, but evidence that someone has been this way.</em></p>
<p>There doesn’t appear to be a ladder down into the darkness below the trapdoor, but a quick ‘<em>Lumos</em>’ reveals a very familiar looking plant that Harry can’t quite put his finger on.</p>
<p>“Devil’s Snare,” Neville whispers. “I reckon we can jump down, but as soon as we’re all down, conjure bluebell flames. Alright?”</p>
<p>Nodding, Harry straightens up, takes a deep breath and a moment to register that they, <em>eleven-year-olds</em>, are really going after their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor to stop him from taking a legendary, powerful artefact, then jumps. Quickly, he moves out of the way, feeling the plant start to curl a little around him already and fighting the urge to panic, just waiting as Neville, then Hermione, and finally Dudley join him before conjuring bluebell flames and relaxing as the plant recedes at once.</p>
<p>“Come on, let’s move,” Hermione tells them, just a little shaky, and as one, they make for the stone passageway at the side of the room, which seems to be the way on.</p>
<p>Harry keeps his sight set forwards, ignoring his surroundings besides the occasional scan for threats; there aren’t exactly any places around here that Quirrell could hide, so he doesn’t feel <em>overly</em> worried.</p>
<p>Yet.</p>
<p>Before long, they reach a room with, to Harry’s relief, far fewer plant-related threats. To his utter bemusement, however, tiny, jewelled objects flit above their head – until he notices the broomsticks leaning against the wall and realises that probably, they’ll have to catch one for some reason or another; that’s how these things go, isn’t it?</p>
<p>“They’re keys!” Dudley breathes, Harry squinting up but unable to see them clearly enough to do anything but trust that Dudley’s right. “D’you think that one of them fits that door and we have to catch it?”</p>
<p>“Probably,” Neville sighs, pulling a face when Hermione crosses to the door and confirms that not only is it locked, but that ‘<em>Alohomora</em>’ won’t work on it. “I hate flying.”</p>
<p>“Lucky for you…” Harry mutters, wondering if he should thank Lisa at some point for suggesting that he start training as a Seeker – though maybe he should wait to express internal gratitude until he knows whether or not it will pay off.</p>
<p>“Quirrell already has to have caught this thing,” Hermione reasons as Harry leans over to pick up one of the brooms. “They’re quite delicate-looking – maybe…”</p>
<p>“One of them is a little more rumpled than the rest,” Neville confirms, turning to Harry. “See there? In the corner at the moment.”</p>
<p>“Got it…” Harry whispers, and kicks off, sights set firmly on his target.</p>
<p>The keys are more agile than he initially expected, as though they’ve sped up on him taking to the air, but he forces himself not to pay that – or the fact that his target isn’t the <em>only </em>damaged key, likely a result of Quirrell having to use guesswork to find the correct one – any mind, instead focusing on his goal and narrowing his eyes to urge his broom onwards. There’s no point in dwelling on the fact that this will be difficult when he has to do it either way; that’s just as stupid as thinking about how badly it’s going to hurt to fall over when you’re already on the way down.</p>
<p>A few loops and dives later, he lands back on the floor, panting slightly up with the key clutched tightly in his hands.</p>
<p>“If this isn’t the right one…” he warns them, groaning in despair when Hermione tries it and shakes her head. “Right, keep hold of it – that’s one less to worry about…”</p>
<p>Luckily, the next one they point him to fits the lock, and they stumble onwards to the next room, stopping almost as one at the sight of the giant Chess set before them.</p>
<p>“Er…” Dudley starts, glancing around at all of them; Harry follows his cousin’s gaze and sees only faces as blank as his own. “Is there another way around this one?”</p>
<p>Harry hesitates, glancing around, and catches sight of the broomsticks in the previous room.</p>
<p>“What if we went over?” he suggests. “Rather than through?”</p>
<p>“What?” Dudley squints at him, obviously – and understandably – baffled, but Harry merely holds up a hand and heads back to the key-room, grabbing the broomsticks and showing them to his friends.</p>
<p>“Oh…” Neville shakes his head vigorously, Hermione looking similarly disinterested. “No, that’s not an option. I’m not… I’ve had bad experiences with heights.”</p>
<p>For a moment, Harry considers asking what those bad experiences were, but by the look on Neville’s face, he suspects that now is neither the time nor place to get into such things – not to mention, they’re on a tight schedule.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he sighs, then draws in a deep breath and nods. “You two stay here. If any professors – or Uncle Salazar – come, tell them we’ve gone on. If Quirrell comes back this way, try to stop him – but stay safe.”</p>
<p>Hermione lunges forwards to hug them both.</p>
<p>“You too,” she whispers shakily. “Don’t do anything stupid – and remember, call your uncle.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do it in the next room,” Harry assures her, offering an encouraging smile to them both before mounting his broom and kicking off. “Let’s do this, Dud.”</p>
<p>It’s surprisingly easy to just fly over the Chess set and land neatly on the other side, opening the thankfully-unlocked door and slipping through only to recoil at the horrific stench that hits them at once.</p>
<p>“I’ll call Uncle Salazar in the next room,” Harry chokes out as he stares, slightly horrified, at the troll sprawled out across the floor before them. “Let’s just…”</p>
<p>Dudley nods in frantic agreement, and together, they pick their way carefully but quickly around the troll, into the next room – only for purple flames to spring up behind them as black flames leapt to life ahead, trapping them in place. Harry ignores it, patting down his pockets to find his mirror, and then again, a small frown forming on his face as his heart rises in his throat. Desperately, he tries a third time but then, when he still can’t find the mirror, he turns to Dudley, eyes wide.</p>
<p>“I don’t have my mirror on me!” he breathes; he was still quite tired when he woke up, not to mention shaken from his nightmare, so he must simply have forgotten it – of all the days… “Dud, do you…?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t carry it regularly anymore,” Dudley admits, lip caught between his teeth. “And… We can’t go back.”</p>
<p>“Fuck!” Harry swears for the very first time in his life, vicious and just a little bit panicked. “Well… Alright, we’ll work this out. Look, we might as well see what’s going on with this room, at least…”</p>
<p>To Harry’s shock, incredulity and faint relief, it turns out to be nothing more or less than a riddle. He <em>loves</em> riddles, never mind that he has to solve one every day to get to bed, and really, in comparison to the blurry stretch of semi-consciousness that makes up the trudge from the Astronomy Tower to his bed in the middle of the night, this is a piece of cake.</p>
<p>“That one leads on,” he declares finally, pointing to a bottle after working it out, then reworking it out just in case; he doesn’t exactly plan on poisoning himself or Dudley with no one around to help them. “That one leads back.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Dudley nods, hesitating, and Harry takes the opportunity to swipe up the bottle which leads onwards. “Harry, what are you…?”</p>
<p>“You go back and get your mirror to call Uncle Salazar – or a professor, whichever’s quicker,” Harry tells him firmly. “I <em>can’t</em> let him steal the Stone, Dudley. I’m going after him.”</p>
<p>“<em>Alone</em>?” Dudley squeaks, eyes wide with panic. “Harry, you can’t –”</p>
<p>“I can,” Harry tells him, shrugging, and downs the bottle’s contents before pointing to the other useful bottle and reminding his cousin, “That one leads back.”</p>
<p>Having pointed to the bottle in question, he takes a deep breath and turns towards the black flames. <em>Here goes nothing…</em></p>
<p>“Harry…” Dudley whispers behind him, a faint tremble in his cousin’s tone, “Good luck.”</p>
<p>Harry nods his acknowledgement, straightens his shoulders, and steps through the fire.</p>
<p>At once, he finds himself confronted with exactly the sight he’d dreaded seeing, barely even taking a second to be relieved that he got the potion right before assessing the situation before him. He stands in a small room, opposite Quirrell, who turns slowly from the mirror he’s been staring at to take him in with a cold, entirely unshaken smirk.</p>
<p>“Potter,” he greets, tone as icy as his expression, and Harry forces himself to offer a civil nod, even as his heart starts to pound with the realisation that, just one day after his last near-death experience, he’s landed himself in <em>another</em>.</p>
<p>If he even gets out of this – and he’s trying not to think about that too hard – then Uncle Salazar will be furious, never mind Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, especially since he walked into this one <em>deliberately</em>. Oh, this was a bad idea. This was a very, very terrible idea.</p>
<p>“Professor Quirrell,” he returns, trying to keep his cool, because Quirrell hasn’t <em>technically</em> insulted him yet, so really, he shouldn’t be rude – plus if he manages to convince Quirrell that he has a handle on the situation, then maybe he’ll stand a chance of convincing himself.</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Quirrell confirms, nodding, then ropes spring suddenly into existence and wrap around Harry, binding him securely in place. “It’s unfortunate, Potter. You were a good student. I’d almost feel sorry about killing you… but it has to be done.”</p>
<p><em>Ooh, fuck</em>. Quirrell is actually going to kill him.</p>
<p>So much for not insulting Harry, too; Quirrell has outright <em>assaulted</em> him instead, and as much as it can’t be helped now, Harry finds himself wishing that he’d just suffered Dumbledore’s presence by going to Professor Snape – or even taken the time to check that he had his mirror on him before he went after Quirrell. Now, all he can hope for is that Dudley gets Uncle Salazar – or anyone – before it’s too late.</p>
<p>“For now, though…” Quirrell muses, turning away to Harry’s great relief. “I need the Stone. This mirror… It evades me. It won’t give me what I <em>need</em> – and yet I <em>know</em> it’s the way.”</p>
<p>Relieved to have the attention off him, Harry takes the time to examine the mirror himself, wondering what’s so special about it, with its tacky little inscription at the top. He’s seen more than enough plays on the whole reflection thing to realise that the letters are simply written in the reverse order; it’s just such a cliché when it comes to mirror-related things. From there, it’s a simple matter of deciphering the back-to-front, somewhat disconnected words to read, ‘I show not your face but your heart’s desire’.</p>
<p>
  <em>Huh.</em>
</p>
<p>Briefly, Harry wonders what he’d see in the mirror if he were to look himself, but then decides that it’s probably best he doesn’t find out. If he truly, desperately wanted to know, he could work it out through introspection and self-examination, which would take a long time, but would likely leave him better prepared for the answer. Besides, anything that offers such knowledge so readily <em>must</em> have a hidden cost. These things tend to, in the magical world.</p>
<p>Perhaps, he realises a moment later, it might be best to distract Quirrell from the mirror and, by extension, the Stone. The longer Quirrell takes to get the Stone, the more time available for an adult to come along – and hopefully, the more time before the man’s attention turns to Harry’s demise, too.</p>
<p>“Why?” he blurts out, the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s the point?”</p>
<p>“Hmm?” Quirrell murmurs distractedly. “Why, for my master, of course.”</p>
<p>“Your… <em>master</em>,” Harry echoes, somewhat doubting that Quirrell means ‘master’ in the apprenticeship sense, and somehow, despite the terror already lodged inside him, a new sense of foreboding rises to join it. “Who – Who would that be?”</p>
<p>Quirrell turns to him, abandoning the mirror, and his eyes light with a desperate fever that has Harry looking away instantly.</p>
<p>“My Lord Voldemort,” he breathes reverently; Harry’s stomach turns, and he shuts up. “He has shown me so much – taught me things beyond your imagination – and now… Now, I must perform this task for him. My Lord, please, I do not understand – the mirror, I do not see how I can…?”</p>
<p><em>He’s insane</em>, Harry thinks hysterically, then a moment later, he realises with sickening horror that psychosis would have been by far the better option, because now, there is a strange, rasping voice drifting from the back of Quirrell’s head, underneath his turban.</p>
<p>“<em>The boy… Use the boy…</em>”</p>
<p>Somehow, this entity that Quirrell calls his master – whether You-Know-Who or not, he does not know, though he’s been aware of Uncle Salazar doubting the ex-Dark Lord’s death – is within the turban and, Harry registers with another wave of nausea and terror, has likely been present this entire year.</p>
<p>“Of course, Master…” Quirrell murmurs, almost seeming to bow and cringe from the turban he wears on his own head; Harry feels a brief, distant urge to laugh, but it’s quashed at once when Quirrell claps to release him from his bonds and beckons him over. “Here, Potter. Right here. Look into the mirror and tell me what you see…”</p>
<p>At first, when Harry looks reluctantly, he sees nothing besides his own reflection, and he cannot help but wonder if it is broken, or if perhaps Quirrell is mistaken, because all he sees is his own fear staring right back at him. For a moment, hope rises, but then his reflection twitches without him, lifting one hand and slipping it into his pocket to pull out a blood-red stone and wink before slipping the stone back in. Harry feels new weight fall into his pocket and has to swallow down the lump in his throat as his stomach heaves; he has the Stone right there, in his pocket, and this is really <em>not</em> how things are meant to go.</p>
<p>
  <em>Time to lie, then.</em>
</p>
<p>“I – I don’t know,” he stutters out, and scrambles quickly for a believable lie; this mirror says it shows one’s heart’s desire, so what’s a believable wish for him? “I only see my – my parents. And myself. A – And –”</p>
<p>“<em>He lies…</em>” the same voice as before rasps, high-pitched like nails down a chalkboard. “<em>Let me see him…</em>”</p>
<p>“Master, you are not strong enough,” Quirrell murmurs, Harry feeling a strange flash of gratitude for the man’s intervention, as much as Quirrell’s intentions are undoubtedly nothing to do with Harry’s wellbeing. “Please, let me –”</p>
<p>“<em>I have strength enough</em>,” the voice cuts him off, weak and thready as ever but somehow firm enough to suggest a reprimand, “<em>For this…</em>”</p>
<p>“Yes, Master.”</p>
<p>Slowly, Quirrell reaches up to his turban, unwrapping it ever so carefully, and Harry can only stand in silence, frozen in place with his breath caught in his throat, to watch and wait for whatever is revealed beneath the cloth. To his surprise, however, there is nothing sitting on top of Quirrell’s head, nothing to be revealed at all – until Quirrell turns in a slow circle, and then, if Harry had the breath and the ability to move his mouth, he’s fairly certain he’d have screamed. On the back of Quirrell’s head, where there <em>should</em> be smooth skull, sits another face – but not a normal face, by any means. No, this face has scarlet eyes with slitted pupils, and a nose that barely seems there at all, more like a snake’s than a human’s. Harry half-expects a forked tongue to flicker from those cracked lips.</p>
<p>“Harry Potter…” the thing wheezes. “You see what I have become? But a shadow, with form only while I share another’s body, surviving on unicorns’ blood, until the Elixir of Life is mine to create the body I need… It’s all I ask, boy… Why don’t you give me the stone in your pocket?”</p>
<p>It knows. Somehow, it knows what Harry has in his pocket, and that thought alone is enough to send Harry stumbling back, all the way until he hits the wall and realises, with Quirrell advancing after him, that he will soon be cornered. Maybe if he ran, he could make it to the exit? But no, Quirrell’s magic would be on him in a heartbeat. He’s trapped, here, and there’s nothing he can do about it.</p>
<p>“Don’t be a fool, Potter…” the thing that might or might not be You-Know-Who presses. “If you join me, I will spare you… Better that than to die begging – just like your parents…”</p>
<p>Harry forces himself not to rise to the challenge, merely setting his jaw and sighing nothing. If he’s going to die here, then it will be with as much dignity as he can muster – and without giving up the Stone willingly.</p>
<p>“Give me the Stone, Potter,” the thing hisses, and when Harry shakes his head, Quirrell turns and lunges towards him, reaching out with clear intent to pin him and take the Stone by force, only to let go with a desperate scream at the same time as searing agony bursts through Harry’s head, drawing a pained cry from his own lips. “Why are you dallying? <em>Take it</em>!”</p>
<p>Quirrell reaches out, whimpering, and again lets go as Harry doubles over in the pain, panting and retching desperately. Through tear-filled eyes, he sees Quirrell’s skin blister where it has made contact with Harry’s skin, though he cannot fathom why, only brace himself as Quirrell reaches for him again –</p>
<p>The loud <em>crack</em> of apparition is followed by the swift disappearance of Quirrell’s form as Uncle Salazar banishes professor and ex-Dark Lord to the other corner of the room and places himself firmly between Harry and the threat.</p>
<p>“When you are safe, we will be having a<em> discussion</em>,” come the gritted words, thrown over one shoulder, and Harry can do nothing but try to swallow down the lump in his throat, well aware that Uncle Salazar is probably not so much angry at <em>him</em>, but certainly furious at what has happened, and likely severely disappointed and frustrated with Harry’s own decisions. “Mr Riddle, it was impolite of you to attack my Heir.”</p>
<p>That<em>’s one way to put it</em>, Harry thinks, slowly regaining his own composure and scrambling for his wand just in case he needs it – why in Merlin’s name did he never take it out and try to defend himself? Probably, in all honesty, because he knew that he was no match for a grown wizard, and really, that’s why he should never have come down here in the first place.</p>
<p>“Who,” the thing on the back of Quirrell’s head sneers, “Are <em>you</em>?”</p>
<p>“I am Salazar Potter, Lord of the Potter Family,” Uncle Salazar tells it coolly, “But perhaps more pressing to you, I am Lord of the Slytherin Family, and you are <em>not</em> one of ours, Mr Riddle.”</p>
<p>“<em>How dare you</em>?” the thing shrieks. “I am the Heir of –”</p>
<p>“You are <em>nothing</em> but a delusional, radicalised fool,” Uncle Salazar hisses. “You have threatened <em>my</em> school for too long, harmed <em>my </em>students, turned <em>my own</em> defences against those they were built to protect, and <em>you</em>, Thomas Marvolo Riddle, will <em>pay </em>for it.”</p>
<p>“<em>Your</em> –?”</p>
<p>“<em>Mine</em>,” Uncle Salazar confirms, taking a slow, measured step forwards, but the hard ice in his tone and the white knuckles of his wand hand speak of the sheer depth of fury bottled up inside him. “You think it pure coincidence that I can apparate inside my own castle? That my name has been passed down through legend and written in your history books? That I can say with <em>absolute certainty</em> that you are <em>not </em>the Heir of Slytherin, because <em>I never had any children</em>?”</p>
<p>Scratch furious; Uncle Salazar is very much beyond that, and Harry almost pities this Quirrell/You-Know-Who/Riddle – whoever <em>that</em> is – for daring to cross him. Harry doesn’t think he has ever heard Uncle Salazar <em>vent</em> like this, for any reason, but he has no doubt that it is anger bringing the speech forth.</p>
<p>“But enough of that,” Uncle Salazar dismisses, faux-casual as he raises his wand to point at the enemy. “<em>Stupefy</em>. <em>Incarcerous</em>.”</p>
<p>Taken aback by the simplicity – and non-lethality – of the spells, Harry can only blink up at his uncle in bemusement, accepting the offered hand and letting it pull him to his feet while he tries to work out Uncle Salazar’s reasoning for such methods. It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask, when, from the entrance – which remains barred by black flames – there comes a familiarly silky drawl.</p>
<p>“I must admit,” Professor Snape announces, leaning against the wall by the entrance with an empty potion bottle in hand and one eyebrow raised, “Salazar Slytherin <em>himself</em> was not one of the ideas I had in mind to explain everything, but I can see how a lot of things might make sense.”</p>
<p>Harry jumps and feels Uncle Salazar stiffen from the tension in the hand that now rests on his shoulder to keep him steady. There’s a tightness to the man’s jaw as well, his shoulders drawn back and his spine rigid as he turns slowly to face Professor Snape, Harry nudged gently behind him.</p>
<p>“Severus,” Harry hears him greet warily, without any clue of what’s going on; Professor Snape is entirely hidden by his uncle.</p>
<p>“Salazar,” Professor Snape returns coolly, Uncle Salazar twitching in suppressed response. “Or is it Lord Slytherin?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar draws in a deep breath, his entire body shifting with the action, then lets it back out.</p>
<p>“I’m fairly sure I asked you to call me Salazar.”</p>
<p>The tension in the air is all but tangible, Harry caught in the suspense of it all with his breath stuck in his throat, his fingertips buzzing a little with apprehension.</p>
<p>“Indeed,” Professor Snape concedes slowly. “Perhaps it would be beneficial for all involved to meet in my office this evening. For now, however… The Headmaster is on his way and will be here shortly.”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar relaxes instantly, to Harry’s surprise, until he realises that his uncle is not reacting to the news of Dumbledore’s approach but to the implicit offer of support that Professor Snape’s warning provides.</p>
<p>“Harry,” Uncle Salazar starts after a small nod of thanks to Professor Snape, “Give me the Stone and I’ll return it to the Flamels. <em>Just</em> the Flamels. I promise.”</p>
<p>Only briefly does Harry hesitate before reaching into his pocket and handing his uncle the blood-red artefact, slightly disturbed by the pulsing warmth it emits; Uncle Salazar, too, grimaces on taking it, but tucks it swiftly away and turns to Quirrell, grasping the bound, unconscious man before returning his gaze to Professor Snape.</p>
<p>“If you could bring Harry down to your office for that meeting, I’d like a few words with him on his self-preservation,” he announces flatly, a disapproving glance shot in Harry’s direction before he disapparates with a loud crack.</p>
<p>“Apparition inside Hogwarts,” he hears Professor Snape mutter, audibly disbelieving but also resigned, before the man crosses to stand next to him. “Alright, Mr Potter. When the Headmaster arrives, you let me speak, understand? Not a word.”</p>
<p>When Dumbledore arrives, Professor Snape spins a tale of Harry delaying Quirrell long enough that, when Professor Snape himself arrived, Quirrell hadn’t managed to get the Stone, but did somehow succeed in fleeing through use of a portkey. Unfortunately, it seems, the Stone has mysteriously disappeared, and neither Professor Snape nor Harry have been able to retrieve it from the mirror, even though Quirrell had still been attempting to get it himself on Professor Snape’s arrival.</p>
<p>Dumbledore curses under his breath on hearing the news but, to Harry’s discomfort, there’s a strange glint of satisfaction in his eyes when he turns to look Harry up and down before nodding and dismissing him.</p>
<p>“I’ll escort Mr Potter straight back to his common room,” Professor Snape announces at once, turning to Harry without waiting for a response from Dumbledore. “Come, Mr Potter.”</p>
<p>It’s only when they’re on the stairs, heading up to Ravenclaw Tower, that Professor Snape stops Harry, producing his wand to, with a furtive glance around to make sure that no one can see them, run a quick diagnostic charm.</p>
<p>“You’re showing signs of mild magical exhaustion, but otherwise, you seem fine,” the Potions Master tells him. “Sleep, or at the very least rest, and I’ll have one of your housemates fetch you this evening to see your uncle.”</p>
<p>Nodding, Harry turns to make his way up the stairs, then pauses, a thought flashing through his mind.</p>
<p>“Sir, is there any way you could let Hermione, Dudley, Neville and Draco know I’m alright?” he asks hesitantly.</p>
<p>For a moment, Professor Snape merely stares at him, then the man nods and turns away, heading down towards the Entrance Hall.</p>
<p>
  <em>Bed it is.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harry, how could you do something so <em>phenomenally stupid</em>?”</p>
<p>Strangely, the worst part about making Uncle Salazar angry is that, unlike Uncle Vernon, he doesn’t shout. His voice doesn’t even rise in pitch like Aunt Petunia’s. Instead, it drops, smooth and cold and hard as granite, his face utterly blank of any emotion besides terrible disappointment, and it makes Harry want to curl up and just apologise on repeat until his uncle forgives him. Magic seeps visibly from Uncle Salazar’s fingers, not in spark form but instead in an insidious fog that Harry somehow knows, without needing to get close, would chill him to the very bone in seconds. From the corner of the room, Professor Snape watches and says nothing.</p>
<p>Miserably, Harry shrugs and drops his gaze to the floor.</p>
<p>“What were you <em>thinking</em>?” his uncle continues. “There were so many people you could have gone to – Professor Snape, <em>any</em> of the other teachers… even me. What in Merlin’s name possessed you to go after Quirrell yourself?”</p>
<p>Opening and closing his mouth without any speech coming out, Harry struggles for words.</p>
<p>“I – I just thought…” he tries, and can’t explain what he was thinking; he’s not sure he knows himself.</p>
<p>The sound Uncle Salazar makes is cold, bitter, and, despite its laugh-like qualities, entirely unamused.</p>
<p>“Do you have <em>any idea</em> what you walked into?” he presses. “You could have <em>died</em> in there, Harry – you <em>would</em> have died, if no one had come for you.”</p>
<p>That, to Harry’s horror and mortification, brings tears welling in his eyes, and for a moment, he can only nod in blank acknowledgement.</p>
<p>“I know,” he whispers, his voice cracking a little, and tries to cough to clear his throat, but even that comes out a little strangled; he’s very, horribly aware that he could have died, just like yesterday, and it’s getting a bit much at the moment. “I – I…”</p>
<p>He’s barely aware of Uncle Salazar softening before arms wrap around him, his uncle knelt before him to embrace him tightly and rub at his back. Falling into the comfort, he’s distantly embarrassed to find himself sobbing desperately in front of Professor Snape, but he can’t bring himself to stop, and Uncle Salazar is just whispering for him to let it out, smoothing a hand up and down his spine all the while.</p>
<p>“I – I don’t know what I was thinking,” he stammers out finally, when he has the breath to speak. “I just – I just saw h – him – Quirrell – go into the – the castle, and I was – I was going to go to Professor Snape, but – but he was with Dumbledore, and I didn’t – I didn’t want to…”</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>Harry</em>…” Uncle Salazar whispers, sounding a little choked up himself.</p>
<p>“I thought I – I had the mirror,” he confesses, a little calmer now with his uncle’s arms around him to keep him safe. “I was going to – to contact you as soon as – as soon as I was sure he was after it. B – But I must have left it up – upstairs on my bed, and I – I didn’t realise until we – we were in the room w – with the potions. So I – I told Dudley to go back a – and get someone, and I just thought I had – I had to stall him until…”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar blows out a slow breath, tugging Harry closer still and tucking Harry’s head gently under his chin as Harry curls in on himself.</p>
<p>“Thank Merlin for the Heir ring,” he murmurs softly. “At least you kept that on, hmm? Dudley must have gone to Professor Snape, I assume?”</p>
<p>“Mr Dursley and Mr Malfoy came together,” Professor Snape agrees. “As soon as I left Dumbledore’s presence, so I imagine they’d been waiting a little while.”</p>
<p>“You have to promise me, though, Harry,” Uncle Salazar continues drawing back as Harry blinks down at his Heir ring with some amount of surprise; he’d assumed that Dudley had got Uncle Salazar, but from what his uncle has said, it must have been the ring that alerted his uncle, “That you’ll never go looking for trouble like that again, you understand? Yes, it would have been bad if Quirrell got the Stone, but you are <em>eleven</em>. You do not have to solve the world’s problems, no matter what anyone tries to tell you. It is not your job to clear up anyone’s messes – particularly Dumbledore’s, but not anyone else’s either, is that clear? That’s what I’m here for.”</p>
<p>Sniffing, Harry nods and drags a hand over his raw, puffy eyes.</p>
<p>“I promise I won’t go looking for trouble,” he repeats dutifully, to a satisfied nod from Uncle Salazar. “Can I… Can I stay while you talk to Professor Snape?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar blinks down at him.</p>
<p>“Of course,” he agrees, soft but sure. “Come on, let’s sit down for this conversation, hmm?”</p>
<p>Harry follows him, feeling somewhat like a little child again but not entirely caring, especially when Professor Snape doesn’t sneer at him in outright disgust – even if the unusual amount of the concern in the man’s eyes <em>is</em> a little embarrassing. For a moment after everyone is seated, Uncle Salazar and Professor Snape watch one another in silence, then, slowly, Professor Snape draws in a deep breath and taps his finger lightly against the surface of his private desk.</p>
<p>“A lot can happen in fourteen years,” he observes without inflection, dark gaze flickering over Uncle Salazar’s face and then down to where Uncle Salazar’s Slytherin ring sits, for the time visible to any observers.</p>
<p>“Indeed,” Uncle Salazar agrees. “Would you like me to start from the beginning?”</p>
<p>Harry’s heard it all before – and many more stories of the finer details besides – but he still listens closely to Uncle Salazar’s explanation of the first time-travel incident, the family he built, how the accidents had started again and they’d been <em>just</em> too late (his uncle’s voice cracks a little), his arrival back in modern times, and the decision made to punish Dumbledore privately but keep the full extent of his trouble-making secret – for the time being.</p>
<p>“I don’t plan to keep it all buried forever,” Uncle Salazar allows finally, Professor Snape listening with rapt attention, “But for now, I would rather it remained under the radar.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Professor Snape agrees, slow and cautious. “And… the legends are…?”</p>
<p>“Largely untrue,” Uncle Salazar fills in. “I have no prejudice against muggleborns themselves, although I would consider myself… Well, Grey but Dark-leaning might be an appropriate way to describe it. My chamber, certainly, was never designed for what I have recently discovered it was once used for.”</p>
<p>The sadness that flits its way across Uncle Salazar’s face is unmistakable, and Harry tilts his head, curious, but no further elaboration comes.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Professor Snape nods. “I recall you saying as much – and no Heirs?”</p>
<p>“No Heirs,” Uncle Salazar confirms. “Aside from Harry, for the Potter Lordship, of course. Such rituals had not been created in the 10<sup>th</sup> Century, and I’ll admit that Godric and I were… quieter about our relationship than we would have been these days, given how integrated the magical and muggle societies were. The muggles would have been at the gates with their pitchforks at once, and you can imagine how much harder it would have been to convince muggle parents to allow us to take their children in.”</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Professor Snape hums in consideration, one long finger stroking over his chin as he nods. “I see. Very well, then. I will remain quiet on the matters we have discussed today – you have my word on that.”</p>
<p>“That is all I can ask,” Uncle Salazar assures, inclining his head. “Harry, I think it’s time you got to bed, but – <em>please</em>, no more dangerous situations for the rest of the year, and if you think something bad <em>is</em> going to happen, find a teacher if you can, or call me.”</p>
<p>Nodding hurriedly, Harry leans into the hug that Uncle Salazar offers, clinging tightly for a second before taking a step back, towards the door.</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Uncle Salazar, Sir.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Mr Potter,” Professor Snape nods.</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar smiles softly.</p>
<p>“Oidhche mhath, Harry.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just can't catch a break, can he?</p>
<p>Oh - and 'oidhche mhath' is 'goodnight' in Scottish Gaelic. If I remember correctly, Gaelic came over to Britain around the 9th or 10th Century, but Scottish Gaelic became a distinct dialect around the 13th, so I'm sort of twisting history a little with the benefit of pretending that it was actually a secret distinct dialect a few centuries before it should have been, used only by magic folk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Madainn mhath to all of you - at least by my time, and when I'm actually posting this - and as ever, I hope you're all well.</p>
<p>I have but one thing to clarify when it comes to my previous expressions of loving comments and welcoming criticism as a part of that; I didn't think it would need to be said, but I don't appreciate criticism in an outright rude tone. If you have something that you think I could improve on, a correction in lore, or just an opinion to offer, that's fine - I appreciate that a lot, just as I do every other polite and/or friendly comment. However, I did receive a comment last week with a somewhat lower standard in manners, so if that person is reading this... There were much better ways to say what you did, and I certainly wouldn't have minded a much nicer discussion on the issue if you had chosen such ways, though I like to think that I laid out my thought process clearly regardless. </p>
<p>That mildly unpleasant business aside, thank you to everyone who has read, commented or left kudos so far. I am very grateful to all of you, and can only hope that you're enjoying this as much as I am.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To Harry’s relief, the rest of the term passes by much more calmly. Somehow, Dumbledore manages to rope an Auror called Dawlish, off-duty due to a severe and complex injury, in to cover the rest of their Defence lessons, and no one really bothers to question where Quirrell went. Amidst all the commotion of the dragon and acromantulas, Hagrid’s arrest and the sudden re-opening of the third floor, it’s just another blip on the radar of what has been a diabolical weekend at Hogwarts, to be moved on from and forgotten as quickly as possible. Before Harry knows it, he’s on the train back to London, chattering happily away with his friends as Neville buzzes with excitement and nerves at the thought of coming to stay with them for the first week of the holiday.</p>
<p>At the station, it’s Uncle Vernon who greets Harry, Dudley and Neville with a cheerful smile and a handshake for their friend before leading the three of them out of the station to their car, which Neville gapes at in shocked silence for several seconds and only clambers into after Harry offers him an encouraging nod – even then, Dudley goes first.</p>
<p>“Good term, then, boys?” Uncle Vernon asks as soon as he’s pulled out onto the road, eyes flickering briefly up to meet Harry’s in the mirror and, suddenly, Harry realises that he hasn’t written Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia since before the dragon incident – three weeks ago, now.</p>
<p>“Good, yeah!” Dudley enthuses, oblivious to the guilt clawing its way up Harry’s throat. “We’ve learnt so much – especially now we have an Auror as our professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts, who’s been much better than the last. Draco’s been telling me a lot of interesting things about the magical community and its culture, too. I mean, Uncle Salazar taught us most of it, but there’s a few things that I don’t think he’s got around to mentioning yet.”</p>
<p>Uncle Vernon’s hands shift on the steering wheel, gripping it slightly tighter.</p>
<p>“Oh?” he prompts, stiff as his cheeks start to flush a little, and, sandwiched between Harry and Dudley, Neville stiffens with realisation, wide eyes flicking in Harry’s direction.</p>
<p>All Harry can do is offer a minute nod and watch Neville bite at his lip in clear anxiety.</p>
<p>“Yeah, like some of the rarer customs that various families have – though maybe that’s just because I stopped learning all that political stuff.”</p>
<p>“Sounds… great,” Uncle Vernon manages to force out, Harry all too aware of the man’s relief, and when Uncle Vernon’s eyes flick across to him in the mirror again, he can’t resist raising a pointed eyebrow; Uncle Vernon looks away at once, and Harry sinks in his seat, both satisfied and guilty.</p>
<p>He <em>does</em> love Uncle Vernon. It’s just that he thinks he might love Uncle Salazar more, and at the moment, it feels a little bit like it’s an either-or decision.</p>
<p>After that, it’s very much a relief to get home, though the car journey is far too long, Harry only making it through by pretending to sleep while Dudley rambles on about his new workout routine, Uncle Vernon offering scattered pieces of advice to optimise it all. Harry almost feels sorry for Neville, until he glances subtly over and realises that Neville actually <em>is</em> asleep. In all fairness, it was a long train journey.</p>
<p>“Dudley, Harry!” Aunt Petunia beams on seeing them, pulling each of them into a hug and kissing the tops of their heads as Harry tries not to squirm in embarrassment, then turns her attention to Neville, who stands a little awkwardly to the side with his trunk. “Neville, is it? It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Petunia, Dudley’s mother and Harry’s aunt.”</p>
<p>“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Petunia,” Neville responds politely, and vaguely, it occurs to Harry that this must be a lot easier for him to adjust to than someone like Draco, who <em>always</em> follows the proper formalities for first greetings, whereas the Longbottoms only tend to do it with others who they know will stick to the tradition.</p>
<p>Aunt Petunia, at any rate, smiles at his manners and ushers them all inside with the assurance that dinner is freshly cooked and ready to be served, and that Uncle Salazar will be home any minute now.</p>
<p>“Where is he?” Harry asks curiously.</p>
<p>Frowning a little as she clearly tries to recall what Uncle Salazar must have told her, Aunt Petunia opens the oven and pulls out their dinner – a beautifully baked lasagne.</p>
<p>“I think he said something about lunch with some minister or another – Fudge, the name might have been? And then he had something to do at Gringotts and various people to meet.”</p>
<p>Neville’s jaw drops.</p>
<p>“Your uncle had lunch with the <em>Minister</em>?” he squeaks, incredulous and apparently mildly terrified. “Oh, Merlin… I didn’t know he was <em>that</em>…”</p>
<p>He trails off, not finishing his sentence, and stares blankly at his plate for several seconds. Harry’s fairly sure that he’s shocked by Uncle Salazar’s level of political influence, but he’s aware of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon watching Neville with slightly varying amounts confusion, curiosity and suspicion.</p>
<p>“That what?” Aunt Petunia prompts gently, offering Neville a smile as she serves him a generous portion of lasagne.</p>
<p>“That… well, powerful,” Neville shrugs. “Thank you, Petunia.”</p>
<p>“You’re very welcome, Neville,” Petunia smiles, turning to dole out Harry’s dinner but keeping her attention on Neville. “So… Does it take high status to meet this… Minister?”</p>
<p>“I mean…” Neville appears to struggle briefly for an answer, chewing his lip. “Not <em>exactly</em> – most Lords or Ladies could meet with him if they wanted, but my Gran says having lunch with him is on a whole other level. That’s for, like… Lord Malfoy, or… Only the most powerful heads of noble families would have lunch with the Minister, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Ah, Neville,” Uncle Salazar laughs softly from the door, already pushing away from the doorframe to ruffle Harry’s hair with the hand not occupied by his cloak. “You flatter me.”</p>
<p>With a muffled noise of complaint, Harry bats half-heartedly at the hand as Neville’s eyes widen.</p>
<p>“Lord Potter! I – I mean, Salazar, sorry…”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s smile only widens.</p>
<p>Within minutes, everyone has settled around the table, conversation flowing easily over their dinner – <em>and yet</em>, Harry thinks bitterly, <em>the divide is obvious</em>. Dudley sits on the other side of Neville to Harry, but speaks mostly to his parents; it’s clear that he’s only avoiding Neville because their friend is engaged with Uncle Salazar – and Harry himself – but Harry is fully aware that it’s making Neville feel a little uncomfortable, likely unsure of what he might have done to warrant such treatment. Harry does his best to make up for it but, honestly, he doubts it’s enough, so he resolves to have words with his cousin at some point as well.</p>
<p>“I was wondering if the two of you might like to come on a trip tomorrow?” Uncle Salazar edges carefully when their plates are almost clean. “I have some business to attend to at Gringotts, and I thought you might like to join me.”</p>
<p>“Not… Not Dudley?” Neville asks, hesitant as he glances over to Harry’s cousin.</p>
<p>“Well…” Uncle Salazar’s lips thin for a second. “I’d ask him, but I doubt Petunia or Vernon would be too easily swayed, and nor would he at the moment.”</p>
<p>Neville’s eyes widen with realisation, his mouth forming a silent ‘o’, then he glances awkwardly down at his plate, Uncle Salazar clearly making an effort to lighten his own mood; Harry jumps in to assist.</p>
<p>“I’d like to go,” he agrees, watching both Neville and Uncle Salazar relax a little. “Can we get ice cream while we’re there?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s lips twitch.</p>
<p>“You’ve got your father’s sweet tooth,” he sighs, shaking his head.</p>
<p>Harry frowns, mock-affronted.</p>
<p>“You said before that you always had a sweeter tooth than my dad!”</p>
<p>“I’m sure I said no such thing,” his uncle returns innocently, while Neville watches on in amused silence. “But for <em>your </em>sake – and the sake of our guest, of course – I’m sure we could make the time…”</p>
<p>Well, Harry will take that. He’s got the result he wanted, and that’s what really matters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Blinking in the dingy gloom of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry stumbles as he finds his balance in the midst of trying to move out of the way of the fireplace, relieved when Uncle Salazar reaches out to both steady him and tug him to the side, just in time for Neville to come staggering out from the green flames to be caught by Uncle Salazar’s other hand.</p>
<p>“Alright?” Uncle Salazar grins, clearly amused by their troubles, and when they both nod, he jerks his head towards the entrance to Diagon Alley. “Come on, let’s get going.”</p>
<p>Diagon Alley will probably never fail to amaze Harry, in all honesty. He’s been here several times with Uncle Salazar over the years, but the bustle of a normal muggle street just doesn’t compare to the head-spinning colours and sounds and smells, all clamouring for attention in Harry’s brain as he follows Uncle Salazar’s dark green cloak through the crowd, determined to keep his uncle within touching distance; any further, and Harry thinks he’d lose the man.</p>
<p>It’s a relief to get to Gringotts and practically fall up the steps into a much emptier space, Uncle Salazar turning to make sure that they’re both still with him and waiting a moment while they catch their breath before spinning on his heel once more and beckoning them into the goblin-owned bank.</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar’s first piece of business turns out to be very secretive, Harry and Neville left to sit and chat in a small room while they wait for him to return, which he eventually does, looking very pleased with himself. Next, Uncle Salazar spends a good two hours discussing the restoration of Potter Manor, which Harry is more than happy to join in on, Neville surprised but seemingly pleased to be asked for his input when it comes to the gardens.</p>
<p>“The good news is that the house-elves have kept the manor in reasonably good condition,” Gornuk tells them finally, audibly satisfied. “There are a few tweaks to be made here and there, including everything we’ve just discussed, and of course the adaptations that you informed us of yesterday… We’ll have finished plans for that by tomorrow, if you wish to come in again.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do that,” Uncle Salazar agrees. “Thank you, Gornuk.”</p>
<p>There’s a slight spring in Uncle Salazar’s step when they emerge into the bright sun of Diagon Alley once more, and Harry doesn’t bother to hide his own excitement at the prospect of getting to live in his family home – the home of his parents, his grandparents, his great-grandparents… The heritage in that place must be <em>incredible</em>.</p>
<p>“Alright, before we get ice cream, there’s a book or two I’d like to get,” Uncle Salazar tells them, slowing as they near Flourish and Blotts. “Feel free to have a look around and see if there are any books you’d like to buy – that <em>does</em> include you, Neville; you’re our guest, after all.”</p>
<p>Neville’s eyes widen with panic.</p>
<p>“Lord – Salazar, I couldn’t possibly –”</p>
<p>“Neville, I assure you, it’s perfectly fine. Consider it a thank you for saving Harry from Devil’s Snare, if you must.”</p>
<p>Hesitantly, Neville nods.</p>
<p>“Good!” Uncle Salazar smiles, opening the door to usher them into the bookshop.</p>
<p>Twenty minutes later, they emerge with four new books, Harry trying to catch a glimpse of the two that Uncle Salazar bought – the witch behind the counter eyed him <em>very</em> suspiciously when she saw the titles – but only able to see Neville’s, a book on the best plants to grow to enhance the ambient magic of a home, and his own, a book on defence; Harry does <em>not</em> plan on going much longer without at least having a basic repertoire of ways to defend himself, just in case. He intends to ask Uncle Salazar for help with that at some point – maybe over the summer, when they have plenty of time to work on it, though he’ll probably have to announce his intentions sooner so that Uncle Salazar can set up the required wards to block the Trace.</p>
<p>“One more stop before ice cream,” the man in question assures them, tucking the books surreptitiously into the bottomless, feather-light pouch at his waist, and doesn’t elaborate on what that stop is, merely guiding them gently through the throngs of people to their next destination. “In we go…”</p>
<p>Harry looks up, blinking as he realises that they’re back at the creepy wand shop, then looks around automatically for Mr Ollivander; he doesn’t plan to be surprised again. Still, he can’t help but wonder what they could be doing here, when Uncle Salazar has his wand – a wand he made <em>himself</em> – which, as far as Harry knows, has never caused him any trouble. Harry and Neville have their own wands too, and Harry’s is certainly fine; Neville hasn’t complained once about his, either.</p>
<p>“Good afternoon,” Mr Ollivander announces, appearing so suddenly behind the counter that Harry jumps – and then curses himself for doing so.</p>
<p>How does the man manage it?</p>
<p>“Ah, Salazar Potter…” Mr Ollivander continues, pale eyes flickering up and down Uncle Salazar, down to the wand in his hand and then up to his face. “Or, should I say, Lord Potter… It’s been a long time since I last saw you, a very long time.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Uncle Salazar agrees tightly. “I couldn’t accompany Harry or his cousin to buy their own first wands, unfortunately.”</p>
<p>“Hmm…” Mr Ollivander nods slowly. “And I am surprised to see that you have one yourself, now. Last I knew, you hadn’t been permitted to buy one – rather a waste of potential, in my opinion, but there wasn’t, I thought, anything to be done.”</p>
<p>Harry stiffens, glancing at Uncle Salazar, because while he <em>has</em> been told this bit of the story before, he’s never actually thought about what that might mean for Uncle Salazar’s wand <em>now</em>.</p>
<p>“There were never any prohibitions regarding <em>making</em> my own wand,” Uncle Salazar counters, and to Harry’s relief, Mr Ollivander inclines his head to concede the point, although the old man’s eyes do light with interest.</p>
<p>“Might I examine your work?” he requests softly.</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar hesitates, wand twisting in his fingers as he appears to think on the idea before, with visible reluctance, handing the wand over. Neville glances in Harry’s direction, Harry catching the movement out of the corner of his eye and turning to offer a shrug which Neville returns.</p>
<p>“This is a very… <em>legendary</em> wand, Lord Potter,” Mr Ollivander begins softly, Uncle Salazar’s spine stiffening to utter rigidity, though he doesn’t appear surprised or alarmed, only determined. “You say <em>you </em>made it?”</p>
<p>“I did,” Uncle Salazar returns calmly. “I’m sure you can see my signature on it.”</p>
<p>“Indeed…” Mr Ollivander agrees, slow and careful, then his eyes dart towards Harry and Neville; Uncle Salazar gives a small, minute shake of his head, and Mr Ollivander’s eyebrows lift. “Very well, Lord Potter. What is your business here today?”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar accepts his wand back, shoulders relaxing by gradual increments, then reaches into his pouch for a different wand.</p>
<p>“I wish for you to tell me everything you possibly can about this wand,” he tells Mr Ollivander, “And I wish to buy Neville here a wand.”</p>
<p>Neville starts, eyes widening for what must be the… In all honesty, Harry has lost count since the start of the holiday.</p>
<p>“Salazar, I –”</p>
<p>“Ah, high time someone brought Mr Longbottom in for a wand of his own,” Mr Ollivander speaks over Neville, tone very much approving as he takes the new wand from Uncle Salazar. “Not to worry, Mr Longbottom. We’ll sort you out.”</p>
<p>Curious, Harry glances down at Neville’s wand, then up again to realise that Neville has caught him looking.</p>
<p>“It’s my father’s,” Neville mutters reluctantly. “Gran said it was a great honour for me to have it.”</p>
<p>Taken aback, Harry blinks at his friend. As far as he knows, the wand chooses the wizard – although, with a lot of occlumency and introspection, Harry knows that it’s possible to make a wand that fits well, like Uncle Salazar did. Why would Neville’s grandmother give Neville his father’s wand to use, when it’s hardly guaranteed to be a good fit?</p>
<p>Could it be that the reason Neville struggles with the practical side of classes is <em>because</em> of this wand? Quite probably, Harry decides, which begs the question: why would his grandmother do something like that to him? From what Harry’s heard of Lady Longbottom, she’s a smart woman. She must surely know that using the wrong wand can greatly inhibit someone’s magical abilities.</p>
<p>“Now, Mr Longbottom,” Mr Ollivander announces, clapping his hands, and Harry jumps, turning his attention back to the adults just in time to see Uncle Salazar tucking the unfamiliar wand away with a quietly satisfied smile. “A wand, hmm? Let’s see…”</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes later, Neville leaves the shop with a bright beam and a new wand, apparently having given up protesting when Uncle Salazar pays for things; Harry’s grin, already wide with his happiness for his friend, only grows when he realises where they’re headed next.</p>
<p>
  <em>Ice cream.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The second full day of the holiday Harry spends with Neville and Dudley, out in the fields close to the house. Uncle Salazar spends most of the day out – and the next, too – but finally, on the fourth full day of the holiday, finds the time to sit down and update Harry on everything political, running through even the smallest of situations and asking Harry’s opinion on each and every minute detail. Harry in turn makes sure to think carefully through every single point, asking for clarification whenever necessary – <em>no question will ever be too stupid to ask, Harry</em>, Uncle Salazar has long since drilled into him – and taking each answer completely seriously, warmth flooding his chest whenever Uncle Salazar offers him a nod of approval or a proud smile.</p>
<p>“You know, if you were a year or so older, I’d be happy to hand you the Potter Lordship in a few months,” Uncle Salazar tells him softly when they’ve gone through absolutely everything, a smile flitting across his face as Harry swells with pride. “On a separate note, though, I’ve been wondering: were you planning to lead Beltane as well?”</p>
<p>Harry ducks his head awkwardly, shrugging as he tries not to seem too arrogant or pretentious.</p>
<p>“I haven’t really thought about it, but I’ll probably end up doing it,” he admits.</p>
<p>“In <em>that</em> case,” Uncle Salazar hums, thoughtful as his eyes drift off into the distance before snapping back to Harry’s face, “There’s a spell or two you’ll need to learn.”</p>
<p>Instantly, Harry perks up. Of course – Beltane requires a few very particular spells, rarely used outside of the ritual. Beyond that, this could be his chance to ask about defence.</p>
<p>“That sounds great!” he enthuses, hesitating for only a second before continuing, “After that… Or maybe in the summer… Could you start teaching me how to defend myself? Please?”</p>
<p>He knows he sounds a little pleading, but Uncle Salazar is just sitting in silence and watching him, a small frown forming on the man’s face to crease his brow and narrow his eyes.</p>
<p>“I <em>know</em> you said to stay away from trouble and get you or a teacher if something bad happens, and I’m going to do that, I promise, but what if something happens anyway, and I can’t get you or Professor Snape or anyone, or no one can get there quickly? I need to be able to do <em>something</em> –”</p>
<p>“Harry,” Uncle Salazar interrupts, a little sharp; Harry wilts at once. “If you think I will <em>ever</em> –” Harry’s heart sinks further, “– refuse to teach you something that will help keep you <em>safe</em>, then you are sorely mistaken. I was thinking of teaching you a few things over the summer anyway, but if you want to start learning earlier – and learning more than just the basics – then we can certainly do that. Just promise me that you won’t think it makes you safe to run into dangerous situations.”</p>
<p>“Of course!” Harry nods vigorously. “It’s more… getting <em>out</em> of dangerous situations.”</p>
<p>Uncle Salazar smiles, the faintest of crinkles at the corner of his eyes betraying his amusement.</p>
<p>“We’ll start on that as soon as I’ve taught you what you need for Beltane.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry returns to Hogwarts with three ceremonial spells under his belt as well as the ability to cast the Disarming Charm, <em>Expelliarmus</em>, and the Stunning Charm, <em>Stupefy</em>, providing a new confidence that, even if he couldn’t fend off an attacker for more than a few seconds, he <em>could</em> delay them for the moment or two that it would take Uncle Salazar to arrive. It makes him feel more than a little bit safer.</p>
<p>Beltane goes off without a hitch, almost the entire year turning out for the afternoon ritual to skip their way between the two bonfires that Harry has spent a good half-hour preparing and enchanting with the first of the three spells, before sitting in a ring around it to share berries and spiced meats and trade flowers to tuck into their clothing, hair or behind their ears. When Harry puts out the bonfires and cools the ash left behind with the other two spells that Uncle Salazar taught him, it becomes a free-for-all for the ash, launching it at one another and trying – not <em>too</em> hard, because getting covered yourself is really part of it all – to dodge out of the way of powdery projectiles. Finally, they all flop back down onto the grass, exhausted but satisfied, their skin tingling with magic where the ash has settled, to laugh and chat the rest of the afternoon and early evening away.</p>
<p>After that, the rest of the term is practically a blur of exam worries, exams themselves – “I wish they could cancel these things,” Harry hears one of Neville’s Gryffindor friends, Seamus, grumble after Potions, “Like when they had a dragon-pox outbreak ten years ago – me mam told me about that…” – and then… rest. Alright, so not <em>exactly </em>rest, because they still have classes to go to and Harry has his bi-weekly sessions with Professor Snape, but it’s certainly a lot less stressful than everything that their teachers have been pushing them through for the last two months – particularly once they have their results back, which Harry has to admit that he’s fairly happy with: ‘Outstanding’s in Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms, then mostly ‘Exceeds Expectations’s and one ‘Acceptable’ in Astronomy.</p>
<p>As with Beltane, the majority of the year joins them for Litha, settling down by the lakeshore on their backs in the same clothes as they used for Ostara, soaking in the bright sunlight that beams down upon them all and drinking in the buzz of magic that it brings for an hour centring around midday. There are no specific words, no ceremonial spells, just calm, peaceful chatter as they bathe in both the sun and one another’s company, and Harry is particularly delighted to finally persuade Draco to join him for a swim in the lake at the end; the water is cold, but it provides a sweet relief from the heat on land.</p>
<p>Similarly, and yet also by contrast, they celebrate Dudley’s birthday quietly, just the five of them, but really, that’s how Dudley’s always liked it. Harry pulls his first prank of their time at Hogwarts that day – a whole school year without pranking was obviously <em>not</em> on the cards – by casting a spell that turns Dudley’s hair a different colour every time he walks in or out of the Great Hall, always with a small shower of confetti and sparks in the form of ‘Happy Birthday, Dud!’ which fizzle and rain down before Dudley’s fondly exasperated eyes.</p>
<p>Just like that, Harry’s first year of Hogwarts is over and, despite the various problems dotted throughout, he rather thinks it’s been a success – not least because Ravenclaw have secured the House Cup by a comfortable mile.</p>
<p>“I’ll visit over the holidays,” Hermione promises earnestly as they hug on the platform, “Or you can come to mine – or both. We can write to one another to sort it out, okay?”</p>
<p>Eagerly, Harry nods and squeezes her a little tighter before letting go, turning to give similar treatment to Neville – alongside the same promises – before looking around for Draco.</p>
<p>“Oh, no,” the blond warns quickly, shaking his head and lifting a hand as if to fend Harry off with it, though there’s temptation tugging at his lips. “Malfoys do not – <em>oof</em>!”</p>
<p>“You were saying?” Harry mutters in Draco’s ear as arms rise tentatively to return the embrace; an irritated huff is all he gets in return, though when he detaches himself and looks around, he catches sight of Lord Malfoy and Uncle Salazar standing together, twin smirks twisting their features. “We’ll meet up, right? Maybe all five of us can meet up at some point – at our house, or at Neville’s.”</p>
<p>“Yours, I think,” Draco replies, nodding. “I’d… rather prefer to avoid visiting a Light manor.”</p>
<p>Harry returns the nod, understanding.</p>
<p>“We’ll sort something out, at any rate,” he assures. “Have a good holiday!”</p>
<p>“And you,” Draco returns, repeating the sentiment to Dudley, although Harry’s fairly sure that they said their goodbyes first.</p>
<p>Turning to Uncle Salazar, Harry wanders along the platform until the distance has been suitably closed for him to set down his trunk and lunge forwards to wrap his arms around his uncle in an action that is part-hug, part-rugby tackle; Uncle Salazar staggers back a few steps, laughing, before managing to steady himself and return the embrace.</p>
<p>“Good term?” he asks gently, audibly amused as Harry nods. “Good.”</p>
<p>Slowly, reluctantly, Harry detaches himself – Uncle Salazar gives wonderful hugs, despite being mostly hard muscle and bone – and for a horrible second, the air seems to crackle with tension as Dudley and Uncle Salazar eye each other.</p>
<p>“Did you have a good term?” Uncle Salazar offers carefully, Dudley nodding and biting his lip nervously until their uncle opens his arms ever so slightly in a no-pressure invitation.</p>
<p>Dudley springs forwards within a second, wrapping his arms around Uncle Salazar and resting his head briefly against the man’s abdomen, one huge, visible sigh of relief blown out as Harry watches on, unable to hide his grin.</p>
<p>“How about you both tell me more about it at home, hmm?” Uncle Salazar suggests after some time, Dudley pulling away with as much reluctance as Harry had to nod and sniff; Uncle Salazar offers him a small, soft smile of understanding, ruffling his hair and then Harry’s and, honestly, Harry doesn’t even think he minds, with the watery beam he can see splitting Dudley’s cheeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The castle is silent. The students have left, and the majority of the staff have packed and headed off on their holidays, those staying behind having already retreated to their own chambers for a long – and much needed – break. Even the ghosts seem quieter than usual, drifting through the halls as soundlessly as ever and holding conversations in nothing louder than a whisper.</p>
<p>Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, does not notice. He sits alone in his office, reading report after report on the movements of the Grey, how they seem to be shifting towards the Dark, and cannot help but wonder if it is in any way connected to the recent emergence of a new Lord, whose policies seem to sit somewhere between the two, from what little voting history Albus can gather.</p>
<p>Lord Slytherin has only been a presence for the last year or so, and a small one at that, rarely making an appearance and, when he does, presenting himself with his cloak drawn up over his head, anything potentially identifiable hidden from sight or even the reach of wands. His magical aura seems non-existent; if Albus didn’t know better, he’d think the man a squib. Clearly, however, Lord Slytherin is far from it, if the almost absent-minded displays of wandless magic that appear whenever he graces the Wizengamot with his presence are anything to go by.</p>
<p>No, Lord Slytherin is certainly not a squib, but in fact a worryingly powerful wizard – worryingly because, even beyond the fact that the Dark and Grey could use him as a rallying point to tear away the Light’s hard-earned power like the grasping fools they are, there is only one man whom Albus can think of to fill such a role.</p>
<p>Tom, it seems, is back.</p>
<p>Now, with the Potter boy out of his reach, the Light – a cause Albus has dedicated his <em>life </em>to, ever since the fall of Gellert – teetering on the edge of a dangerous cliff, and Nicolas so angry with him about the Stone mix up that his old friend is threatening to switch allegiances, it is up to Albus to do something about it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Many miles away, on the other side of Magical Britain, a small heap of cloth and flesh shivers and stirs, flinching instinctively from the cold air that hits it – and then again as the chains wrapped around its wasting limbs rattle viciously with the first movement. The sounds draw the attention of a lone man, leant against a wall in the far corner of what would have shown itself to be a small, cell-like room had there been light enough to fill it, and slowly the figure lowers the two wands that he has been twisting idly between his fingers, tucking them safely away and adjusting a small artefact which rests against his chest, held there by a golden chain around his neck, to ensure that it is fully hidden beneath his dark attire.</p>
<p>The heap shifts again, struggling slowly to manoeuvre itself so that its back is to the wall, though it does not break its foetal position, still cradling its burnt hands close to its chest.</p>
<p>“Well, hello,” the standing man murmurs softly, crossing the room in three assured strides to crouch beside his captive. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake for quite some time, now.”</p>
<p>Slowly, cautiously, the heap opens its eyes, blue staring up into blazing green, brighter than any it has seen before.</p>
<p>“You know, you should thank Garrick Ollivander for the condition you’re in,” the man continues, gently lowering himself to sit without any apparent concern for the dirt that clings instantly to his pristine robes. “I was entirely prepared to wake you in a world of pain to punish you for what you’ve done, but Ollivander was able to assure me that <em>this</em> wand…”</p>
<p>He pulls one of the two wands calmly from within his robes to dangle it just out of reach, watching his prisoner for a reaction and seeming unsurprised to get only a silent flicker of eyes to the wand and then back to his face.</p>
<p>“…which is now <em>mine</em>, was never yours. And, fortunately for you, I have spent enough of my time researching wandlore – and, of course, Soul Magic – to know what that means for you and your… <em>direct</em> responsibility when it comes to the harm of the people I care about. That means I’ll be giving you a chance to prove yourself worthy of living a life beyond unimaginable pain, and to show yourself to be useful to me and those I care about. Doesn’t that sound good?”</p>
<p>The heap nods frantically.</p>
<p>“Good…” its captor purrs, lips twisting in a malicious parody of a smile. “I’m glad we see, ah… <em>eye-to-eye</em>…”</p>
<p>The green-eyed man leans forwards, gaze never straying from the blue eyes staring fearfully back, and tucks the wand back into his robes before reaching out his now-wandless hand.</p>
<p>“<em>Legilimens</em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The first chapter of the second book will be up next Saturday, as ever. Stay safe and take care in the meantime!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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